The Graft
by LalSoong1687
Summary: After Shannara Rozhenko is in a tragic accident, Beverly Crusher prepares for an experimental graft surgery.  Meanwhile she sees glimpses of her long-lost son and wonders if she is imagining him.
1. Chapter 1

The Graft

A Star Trek: The Next Generation Story

by Lal Soong

Chapter One:

On a rare day without any duties scheduled for either of them, Worf and Deanna decided to take the opportunity for an entire day of leisure time. Deanna took a long, relaxing bath, because she hated sonic showers, and then chose out a lovely red dress that she knew really turned on her husband. After three and a half years of marriage, she was pleased that she could still so easily excite her Klingon husband. Maybe the holodeck will provide more than fantasy, she mused with a smile as she slipped into the outfit. Already, she was imagining slipping it back off.

As she stepped out of their private bedroom to the living area, he stood from the sofa to greet her. The Klingon scrutinized her appearance, smiling as he reached her slender legs. "You look exquisite," he told her and with a low growl, brought his hands up close to her chest.

"Worf," Deanna chastised, grabbing his hands and nodded in a direction behind her husband.

Their children were in the room, of course. Worf needed to remind himself to watch his actions around them, especially two-year old Shannara. The little girl smiled up at them from the carpeted floor and holding up two blocks exclaimed something that wasn't completely coherent to an adult's ear.

Smiling, as though she understood her daughter anyway, Deanna went to the little girl and knelt down beside her. "Mommy loves you very much, Shannara," she said, kissing her on the cheek. "You be a good girl for your big brother, okay?"

"Otay," the little girl uttered. She raised her stuffed dog, a recent birthday present from Captain Riker, expecting her mommy to kiss it goodbye, too. Deanna complied.

Standing, Deanna turned to face Alexander, who was sitting on the sofa. "Make sure Shannara takes her afternoon nap," she reminded her fifteen-year old stepson.

"Don't worry. I will," Alexander replied. He got up from the couch in an attempt to usher his parents out of their quarters.

At the doorway, Deanna turned around one more time. Alexander was now nearly as tall as his father. Deanna could not get over how much he had grown in the last year. He was a young man now, quite capable of taking care of his little sister for the day, Deanna reassured herself. "If you have any problems, don't hesitate to page us."

"Of course. Now go enjoy yourselves!" The boy had to practically push his sok'cheim out the door before she left willingly, following Worf to the nearest turbolift.

Once his parents were out of sight, Alexander stepped away from the door, letting it slide closed. He glanced at his little sister. Shannara was still sitting on the floor, playing with her blocks and stuffed dog. It doesn't take much to entertain little tikes, he mused.

He tapped his commbadge. "Alexander Rozhenko to Rosa Cassadaga."

"Are they gone?" came an excited response.

"Affirmative, my dear lady. I await your arrival."

"I'm on my way, loverboy."

Alexander smiled broadly. She called me loverboy, he mused. Was she implying something in that statement? He hoped so! If he was wrong, he didn't want her to think he was trying to push her into anything before she was ready. But oh boy, did she ever turn his warrior instincts on!

He walked over to the replicator and ordered, "Red rose, no thorns." He delicately removed the synthetic flower and walked across the room to stand near the doorway. He paused, and glanced back once at his little sister to reassure himself that she was still playing with her blocks.

The door chimed a couple of minutes later. "Please enter," Alexander said, suppressing a smile. As the door slid open, he held out the rose to his visitor. Alexander was mesmerized by the beauty standing before him. In everyday clothes the fifteen-year old black girl was a pleasure to stare at. And tonight she had on a very revealing thin evening dress.

"Alex, aren't you going to invite me in?" she asked, as she took his flower and the initiative.

"Of course," he replied. "Let's have a seat on the sofa."

Like a gentleman, he allowed her to sit down first, but she wasn't looking for a gentleman! She snuggled against him and nuzzled first his ear and then his neck. The girl ran her fingers along his ridges, smiling delightedly as her fingers explored the fascinating textures. He responded quickly to her caresses, seeking out her lips with his. He had never kissed anyone before Rosa, but she made it seem so natural. . .

"Oh, Alex," the girl moaned. "If only we were alone."

As if to remind them that she was in the room with them, Shannara began using her stuffed dog like a bulldozer, demolishing her creation. She let out a traditional Klingon roar and stood to kick at her blocks.

"Shannara!" Alexander snapped. This sent the little girl into tears. "I'm sorry," the young Klingon apologized. "I shouldn't have yelled at you."

His sister ran into her room, still crying.

"She'll be all right," Rosa reassured him as she ran her hand through his long hair. "Why don't you let me hear your version of that Klingon growl?"

Alexander found himself slipping back into the mood rather easily. As he let out a playful growl, he gently nudged his girlfriend to a reclining position on the sofa, laying half on top of her. Rosa laughed flirtatiously and darted her tongue up into his mouth.

The young Klingon felt sensations he had never dreamed of before! Wanting this girl even more now than when he'd first seen her in that slinky dress, he began stroking her bare legs.

Alexander unzipped it down the side and slipped it off, then began fondling her firm young breasts. Rosa gasped as he lapped delicately at her nipples, the nubs growing firm under the caresses of his deliciously rough tongue. The girl panted hotly into his ear, letting the young Klingon know she wanted him to continue-wanted them to go further.

He skinned quickly out of his own clothes, her hot soft hands helping eagerly. Alexander bent back down to continue to torment her breasts with his tongue, lingering teasingly on each stiffened nipple. Rosa moaned and arched her back, her ebony fingers playing over the ridges of his forehead as she fought the urge to pull his head closer.

Alexander was delighted that he was so easily giving Rosa pleasure. He had only read of sexual experiences before now and felt himself nearly floating away from his body over the sheer excitement of the real thing. She really does want me as badly as I want her, he thought incredulously.

Rosa felt him grow hard against her thighs, and suddenly her hands had new territory to explore. She gasped when she first wrapped her fingers around it, but quickly spread her legs and wrapped them around his hips, snuggling her feet under his buttocks and guiding him into place.

"I want you to be my first," she whispered in his ear, her tongue working in the sensitive folds.

That was all the more encouragement Alexander needed. He pushed gently forward, restraining his instinctive impulse to thrust with all his strength, afraid he'd hurt Rosa. She gasped again and thrust back toward him, and they both moaned as he slipped into her.

Rosa gasped again as she reclaimed his lips, the sheer ecstasy of the sensations cascading through her body startling her. She could feel his body quivering against hers as he sank slowly deeper into her, and thought she understood his tension.

Alexander was quivering with the effort of not sinking his claws into her hips and hilting himself in one mighty thrust. Her moaning gasps and clutching, shuddering interior was his reward though, and he growled deep in his throat when she finally wailed and stuffed herself completely onto him.

The two young people were completely immersed in each other now, Alexander starting to slide in and out in time to the spastic thrusts from the girl. She howled as he clutched her to him and bit down on his shoulder, causing the young Klingon to finally lose control!

He roared and speeded the movement of his hips, battering her enthusiastically responding body with nearly unfettered lust. He managed not to bite her back, barely, and tried to keep from clawing her, but was unable to control the quickening of his hip's gyrations.

They wailed and growled at each other, Rosa clutching him possessively, and suddenly Alexander exploded inside her! The girl moaned at the heat of the liquid spurting into her and came in spasms with him.

"I-I'm sorry," Alexander panted as he began to grow limp inside her. "I didn't mean-I didn't know it would happen so quickly."

"I loved it," she reassured him. "And it's not like it'll be our last time." Rosa pulled him down and kissed him, enjoying the feeling of her breasts flattening against his sculpted chest.

Alexander was enjoying the feeling of her cool, firm body against his when he remembered his little sister. "Get dressed!" he exclaimed, "Shannara's in the next room. What if she sees us?"

"At least she didn't come out while we were- you know," Rosa said nervously as she slipped into her dress.

As soon as he had his pants on, Alexander strode to his sister's door. "Shannara," he called out, expecting her to open the door and smile out at him playfully.

When the door did not slide open, Alexander pressed the override button on the commpanel and stepped inside. His sister was not in the room. Where could she have gone? How could she have gotten past without him noticing? He knew how, he realized, feeling ashamed. What if she saw something? If she had, she probably thought that he and Rosa were trying to kill each other, with all the growling they were doing, and now Shannara was probably hiding somewhere in utter fright.

Turning about quickly, he left the room still calling for his sister. It was not like her to not answer him. Every passing second, his heart beat faster with alarm.

He stepped into their parents' room, expecting to find Shannara playing in some of their mother's belongings. She was not there either.

"The bathroom!" he suddenly exclaimed, realizing how many dangers that room provided. He rushed out of his parents' bedroom and through the living area.

Rosa, who had only just managed to get her dress and all her accessories back on properly, followed him into the bathroom. The shower door was only slightly ajar, but it was enough to see the small hand sticking through the crack. The small, motionless hand. As he slid open the door, he prayed he wouldn't find any water, but somehow he knew he would. Shannara was laying face down in a mere six inches of water. He pulled her out and laid her gently on the floor, feeling for a pulse. Her face was turning a purplish-grey color. She was breathing ever so slowly. Her chest was not moving. He realized she had taken in far too much water in her lungs.

Rosa came to his aid, leaning down to give the girl her own examination. "Oh God, Alex! Is she breathing?"

"Alert sickbay," he begged and then placed his mouth on his sister's to give her a breath.

Rosa ran to the commpanel in the living area and paging sickbay, informed them of the medical emergency. When a medical team arrived seconds later, Alexander backed a few feet away from his sister to let them do their job. After stabilizing Shannara, the two medical officers had her transported directly to sickbay.

Rosa rushed to Alexander and they hugged fiercely, both crying on the other's shoulder.

"I have to go to her!" Alexander said, pulling away from Rosa. "I have to know she's all right. It's all my fault! I was supposed to be watching her."

Mouth agape and head shaking, Rosa could offer no response. Alexander turned and left her standing speechless in his quarters.

"Are you sure this part of town is safe for a lady?" Deanna asked using a southern drawl and delivering it in a joking tone as she and Worf stepped into the holodeck-created saloon.

The bar was crowded with poker players, drinkers, cigarette and cigar smoke, and bargirls, all mingling together. The laughter, arguments, teasing of anything in a skirt, and all the other sounds that filled the room had reached decibels that were nearly painful to Deanna's ears. Still, she did not want to leave. She loved the Ancient West and this was simply a part of it.

"Not if she's alone," he replied. "But if a strong, honorable man is accompanying her. . . ."

"Yes? Don't stop! Do tell me more about this strong, honorable man." She clutched at his muscular arm, squeezing it affectionately.

"I would much rather show you-I have a room booked upstairs."

"Oh really?" Deanna cooed as she glanced toward the stairway. "I'm afraid if you want to get me up into that room, you're just gonna have to carry me."

In one swift motion, the Klingon swooped his wife over his shoulder. He easily carried her up the stairs and into the rented room, growling promises of ravishing her the entire way. Once he'd thrown her on the bed, he began to deliver. He unzipped her dress and it rolled off her shoulders down to her waist to reveal her bare succulent breasts. She clawed at his clothes, ready to rip them off if she couldn't get the buttons unfastened quick enough.

"I want you inside me!" she exclaimed and nibbled at his ear. She reached down between his legs and clutched at the erection aching to get out of his pants.

"I want to be inside of you, love," Worf growled, arching into her caress.

"Wench," Deanna whispered, her hand tracing the shape of the object she knew so well. "I want to be your wench today, love."

The Klingon grinned, enjoying it when his wife played the naughty roles. And she was obviously anticipating this one. . .

"You treat me right, wench, and maybe I'll give you a bonus," Worf growled, tangling his fingers in her long black hair and pulling her head back to look into her eyes. Although unfamiliar with the accent and word-choices, he was trying to get into character for her, and Deanna's heart leapt with her love for the big Klingon.

"Oh, I will, I will," she promised, staring wide-eyed at him as she brought her other hand into play, unbuttoning the period pants he was wearing and reverently bringing his erection into the open.

She glanced down and gasped, one hand going to her mouth as the other vainly attempted to encircle the engorged shaft before her. "Oh, sir, it's so big-I just don't know if I can. . ."

Her voice trailed off as her hand worked slowly up and down, eliciting a heartfelt groan from the Klingon as he felt the blood bubble in his veins. "I have never-I mean, I ain't never broke a filly I rode yet, wench. You all will do just fine. I may spoil you for all the other cowpunches, though."

That was too much for Deanna, and she began to giggle. "Cowpunches? Worf, don't you mean cowpokes?"

"Is there a difference?" he asked, thinking about it.

"Yes, there is a difference," she laughed, still stroking him. "As much of a difference as this to-this," she said smokily and leaned forward.

Worf gasped as hot wetness descended on him and turned the bubbling in his veins to superheated steam. He groaned deep in his chest and tangled his fingers in her locks again; this time, however, he did most emphatically not pull her head back.

Deanna wanted to laugh again at his reaction but could only gurgle merrily as she sweetly tormented him. She knew exactly what he wanted to do, which was literally rip her dress off her body and ravish her mercilessly. And, she was certain, with just a little more work that was exactly what would happen!

The Klingon in Worf was rapidly reaching the point of no return as the lovely black-haired wench in front of him slurped loudly around his throbbing member. "If-you-unnnghhh-ohhh- AARGHHH!" he babbled, finally succumbing to the urge he normally controlled tightly.

Deanna gasped in delight as he pulled her roughly off of him and slung her back onto the bed. Strong hands grasped the thin red dress and pulled outward, shredding the fabric like tissue as it came free of her curvaceous body. The woman smiled eagerly at the expression on her husband's face, then gasped again as he rolled her onto her stomach and then pulled her up onto her hands and knees.

Worf roared, the sound of Klingon triumph thundering in the room as he sheathed himself fully in her willing body. He clutched her strongly by the hips, just enough of his rational mind in control to gauge the pressure of his fingers as he began to enjoy her.

Deanna was buffeted, pummeled, abused, and delighted. She knew how badly Worf needed these occasional releases, but for some reason she could only tease him into them when they were playing other roles. And for some reason she couldn't convince him that she enjoyed this, occasionally at least, just as much as he did. She regretted that after the first episode of bondage and domination she'd shared with her husband, which she thought he'd enjoyed as much as she had, he'd never consented to try it again. . .

Then the pleasure overwhelmed her, and all that existed for them both was sheer sensation, feeling run amok. Time had no meaning to the gasping, wailing, roaring couple, nor responsibility, nor propriety. Just each other, and what they had together!

Worf shuddered, hunched over the slavishly kneeling Deanna as he exploded deep within her. She was sobbing and shaking, her own orgasm overwhelming her near to the point of sensory overload, and the big Klingon could feel her joy and excitement as her mental control slipped for a timeless moment. For a second or an eon, he was never sure which at the time, they were truly, literally, one!

He shuddered again and rolled onto his side, bringing her with him and cuddling the shaking Betazed against his broad chest. She'd done it to him again, he thought ruefully, and it made him love her all the more. Worf pulled her face around and licked gently at the tear-tracks on her cheek, then whispered "Kur'kszao"-love-into her ear.

"Yes," she sighed and snuggled back into him, enjoying the warm feel of his flesh against hers and the soft emotions she could sense in him, so perfect to her and so un-Klingon. He might not be her Imzadi, but Worf was everything that was important to her.

"You did it to me again, you naughty wench," the Klingon mock-growled as he hugged her against him.

"And enjoyed it at least as much as you did, cowpunch," the woman giggled. Her stomach rumbled, and Worf laughed at both her body's reaction to violent exercise and emotional stress and his own. He felt, he was certain, at least as hollow as she sounded just now.

"Would sandwiches be sufficient to stop those cravings, Deanna?" he asked rhetorically.

"I'd rather have a-"

"Chocolate sundae," they both said in unison, and Worf laughed as she continued, "but sandwiches will suffice for now, you beast."

"Good," Worf said, then bellowed, "Bring me some sandwiches up here, cause if I have to come down there I'm gonna bust somebody up!"

"Oh!" Deanna gasped, digging under her for the sheet they'd twisted into knots. "Ohh, sir, I'll just die of embarrassment if someone sees me like this. Besides you, I mean," and she giggled self-consciously for him.

Someone knocked at the door and the couple scrambled to cover themselves.

"That was fast," Deanna said and looked to the floor for her discarded clothing.

"Who is it?" Worf asked after making sure they were both sufficiently covered by the sheets.

Their captain stepped inside. "I'm so sorry," Will said.

Instantly, Deanna sensed the dread from Riker and knew he wasn't apologizing for catching them in a state of undress. "What is it?" she started to ask and gasped. "Oh my God, Shannara! Worf, there's something wrong with our baby!" She slipped out from underneath the blankets, not caring that she was completely nude. After slipping on her panties, she grabbed her dress, and clutching it to her bosom, she called up the holodeck exit and rushed to the nearest turbolift.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two:

By the time they reached sickbay, both parents had managed to pull their clothes back on. Deanna refused to let herself believe that her daughter was seriously wounded. Whatever accident Shannara had been involved in, the doctors would be able to use their twenty-fourth century, high- tech medical equipment to repair the damage. A two-year old's bones could be healed in a day. Organs could be artificially replaced and the body healed within a day in most cases.

Yet as she grew closer to her daughter, she sensed the overwhelming dread. Medical crewmembers on duty were feeling hopelessness and a deep sadness. The worst part of it all for Deanna was the fact that she could sense nothing from Shannara.

As they spotted Alexander sitting in a corner of the room, his eyes reddened by tears, Deanna broke down. Her barrier of denial collapsed and her knees buckled underneath her. The rest of that night passed in a blur. The doctors explained to her and Worf that their daughter had been without oxygen for several minutes and had slipped into a coma. Deanna's pleas that they awake her baby were gently refused. She couldn't sense her daughter's feelings, she cried out to them.

Shannara Rozhenko had suffered severe brain damage and had been placed in a stasis tube. Any immediate attempt to revive her would result in death.

While the painful exchange proceeded between the doctors and his parents, Alexander remained quiet and still. He wanted to crawl into a black hole where no one could find him. Once the initial shock had passed, his parents would realize that he was responsible for this tragedy. He almost welcomed the punishment. How could he ever live with what he had done? Closing his eyes, Alexander placed his mind in a mental black hole.

Alexander remembered the day his parents had brought Shannara home from the sickbay. He had wanted to hold her, to smile down at her crying red face. Most of all, he had wanted to comfort her and to be her big brother. Shannara had grown quickly, her ridges thickening despite her Human and Betazoid parts and her entire family had soon realized that she had inherited the Klingon temper as well. Many toys had fallen victim to her rage and the toddler would scream until a new one had been replicated for her. To say she was spoiled would never do this child justice. Alexander could have found himself jealous of his baby sister, but instead he became equally guilty of letting her get away with most anything. A quick learner at how to get her way, Shannara had taken to smiling at each of them sweetly and fixing them with her deep brown eyes. Resisting her then was even more impossible than during one of her fits. No one could refuse her charm.

What Alexander wouldn't do to see her smiling up at him again. Why had he ignored her?

"Alexander," he heard his father calling him. When he opened his eyes, he both realized that his father had called him several times and that he had fallen asleep. His neck was stiff from leaning against the wall and he twisted it to remove the kinks. As he adjusted to the lights, he noticed his father sitting next to him. The memory of the accident came crashing down on him. He shuddered with fright.

"Shannara?" he gasped. "Is she-" How could he even ask the question? "Will she be all right?"

He could see the tears forming in his father's eyes. His father never cried. "She is in a coma," the older Klingon replied. "The doctors do not want to revive her. It would be too dangerous. They say this is the only way to ensure she lives." He averted his gaze. "But what kind of life is it?"

"Too dangerous! Father, what other option is there?"

"There is a new medical technique. It's known as the brain graft. It is untested on humans and highly controversial, but Dr. Selar assures us that it is Shannara's only hope."

Alexander fought against a fresh batch of tears and lost. "This is all my fault! I wish I were lying in there instead of her!"

Worf placed a firm hand on his son's shoulder. "Wishing for the impossible will not help your sister now," he said sternly. "We need to concentrate on helping Shannara through this."

"Where is Deanna?" Alexander asked.

Without words, Worf turned and stared at Dr. Selar's closed office door. Alexander followed his father's gaze. He wished he could hear what was being said behind the closed door. Was the doctor offering Deanna any hope or only further despair?

"You do understand, as I explained to your husband already, that while the brain graft has been proven successful," Dr. Selar said, "it has only thus far been used on animals?"

Inside her office, both women sat on the small sofa. Although Dr. Selar was a Vulcan, she was not completely insensitive to Deanna's anguish. She did not offer any physical comfort, such as a hug or a squeeze of the hand, as an emotional person probably would. What she did offer was a few minutes of private conversation and for what it was worth, it did help Deanna put her pain into perspective.

"You said it was my baby's only hope," Deanna replied.

"Indeed, it is."

"Then I want Beverly to perform the surgery." She said her words with conviction, indicating that she would not back down on the demand. If her daughter was to be operated on, then she needed Beverly.

"Dr. Crusher is currently on Starbase 217. It would require several days' travel to reach her."

"You said Shannara will remain stable while she is kept in stasis?"

"That is correct."

"Then I want Beverly!" The fierce determination in the Betazoid's eyes was enough to make anyone relent-even a Vulcan.

"Very well. I'll make arrangements with Captain Riker."

Deanna hated leaving sickbay-and her baby, but knew she and Worf had to return to their quarters to prepare for their long journey.

"I will pack everything," Worf volunteered.

"No," she insisted. "I want to pack Shannara's things. It helps me feel closer to her." She walked to the middle of the living area and knelt to pick up the stuffed dog that their little girl had discarded there. Her favorite toy. "Oh Worf!" she exclaimed as a fresh bout of tears shook her entire being.

Her husband rushed to her, and kneeling down, he allowed her to cry on his shoulder. He wanted to tell her that everything would be all right, but she was an empath, and he knew she could sense his own nagging doubts. "We'll get through this," was all he could manage as he ran his hand through her hair.

Alexander entered the quarters and stopped several meters away to stare remorsefully at them. He could offer no apology, no comfort, nor any assurance, so he slipped past them into his bedroom to prepare his own things for the trip.

Collecting herself, Deanna pulled away from her husband and stood. "I want to take this," she said, holding out the stuffed dog. "When our baby wakes up, she will want it."

Worf said nothing, only nodding tersely and allowing his wife to walk past him into their daughter's bedroom. After a moment, he went into their bedroom to pack their clothes and other necessities.

Three hours later, they met Dr. Selar and Captain Riker inside Docking Bay Three.

"Deanna, Worf," the captain said, nodding at them, "I couldn't let you leave without saying something." Yet instead of further words, Riker stepped forward and offered Deanna a firm embrace.

"Thank you so much, Will."

As Riker released his grip on the counselor, he looked toward her husband. "Worf. . .good luck."

"Thank you, sir."

A few minutes later after everyone had boarded the small ship and settled into their temporary home, the runabout _Huron_ left the_Enterprise_ and zoomed into full warp. On board were Worf, Deanna, Alexander, Dr. Selar, an Ensign Spry, who had an excellent piloting record-and Shannara almost lifeless in her stasis tube.

They slept very little. Deanna spent most of her time peering over her daughter's still body and crying. Worf pulled her away when he could, coaxed her to eat and to sleep for brief periods. What he did not tell her, however, was that while she slept, he maintained the vigil over their daughter. Tears came easily to him as they never had before in his life.

Inside the small stasis tube, even bruised, Shannara looked more beautiful than ever. Her long brown curls clung to her face, while her delicate fingers lay at her side.

Since the day Shannara had been born, Worf had learned what it meant to be overly protective. He had wanted to shield his daughter from the harsh realities of the real world, encouraging her to bask in fantasies and game playing. Even though his daughter was now only two-years old, Worf had already begun to concern himself with ways to handle boys chasing Shannara some years down the road.

Now, as he stared down at her motionless features, he only hoped he had the chance to see the day when boys became interested in her. He wanted to open the lid and cradle his daughter as he had lifted her out of her crib so many times. That act, in which they had both taken great comfort in the past, would kill her now.

After making sure Deanna was still sleeping, Worf sat down beside his son. "Perhaps you should get some sleep as well, Alexander," he said.

"I don't think I could," the boy replied. "Please. Let me stay up for a while longer."

Worf nodded his consent. He didn't want to force the issue, especially when he would probably sleep little himself during this trip. He didn't know what else to say and so they spent several minutes in awkward silence.

It was broken when a pounding coming from a compartment on the far side of the room startled them. Dr. Selar, who was in the room with them to monitor Shannara's condition, was closest and reached the compartment ahead of Worf. When she removed the panel, a black girl emerged.

"Who are you? And what are you doing here?" Worf demanded.

"R-Rosa," the girl stammered. "I feel so guilty. I had to come to see that your little girl is all right."

"Why would you feel guilty?" Worf turned toward his son for an explanation. Alexander averted his eyes, showing both shame and cowardice. Clenching and unclenching his fists, Worf tried to remain calm. He had to for Deanna and Shannara's sake. He turned back toward the girl. "What is your involvement with my son?" Before she answered, he had a feeling that he knew the story, at least in part.

"I didn't mean any harm," she said. "I just came to visit Alex and well-we got a little distracted."

"Are you telling me that Shannara was hurt because you were-" He again turned toward his son. "Deanna and I placed our complete trust in you. Shannara should have been your first concern, not-" He couldn't bring himself to say the words. It wasn't that he was in denial about how boy's Alexander's age felt about girls-he had been there once himself. What he could not believe, nor accept, was that his son had been so irresponsible. Alexander had always doted on his little sister. He would never intentionally allow harm to come to her. And yet he had been overly careless.

"I'm sorry I stowed away like that," Rosa said, diverting the Klingon's wrath away from his son, "but I wanted to wait until it was too late to turn back before letting you know I was on board."

"You have succeeded. Go sit down! We will discuss this matter later."

Without argument, Rosa walked to the sofa and ostensibly did not look at Alexander. She sat on the opposite end, and they sat quietly, appearing afraid to talk with one another.

Worf, not wanting to deal with them any more, went into the small room where his wife was sleeping and laid down beside her.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three:

"Robin!" Doctor Beverly Crusher exclaimed as she caught the young woman in the corridor at Starbase 217. "I didn't know you were stationed here."

"Dr. Crusher, what a pleasant surprise!" The two women hugged. "I've been stationed here for the last eighteen months," Robin Lefler replied.

"Then this station must be bigger than it seems, because I've been here for three weeks and I can't believe I haven't run into you before now." Beverly reflected over this for a moment. "You must be overdue for a check up. Why haven't you stopped by the infirmary?"

Robin looked the doctor straight in the eyes and with conviction, said, "I've been busy-in engineering. My commanding officer, Chief Jeckyl, expects me to work at a hundred and fifty percent capacity."

Beverly chuckled. "Jeckyl the jackel-I've heard about him. Then you're overworked. All the more reason to get your health checked."

Conceding with a smile and a nod, Robin said, "I suppose I should make that a new law, Number 178: Take care of your health, so you can perform your duties."

"Take care of your health, so you can enjoy life!"

"And I will just as soon as the jackel gives me some time off."

"Don't let your work turn into your life." Beverly faltered as she realized she might sound like a hypocrite.

Robin brushed it off, probably out of kindness. "I'd have thought you would have been assigned to another starship by now with your credentials."

"Well, after what happened with my last two ships, I thought I'd accept an assignment on a starbase for a while."

Robin grew distant for a moment, afraid to broach the subject that hung between them. "I heard about your. . .problem."

"You can say it, Robin, without offending me. My regeneration."

"It must have been very confusing for you, Captain Picard and all the other crewmembers aboard the Stargazer. You died!"

"Yes, I did. But thanks to the Akodians, I came back. It was difficult to adjust for a long time. I've undergone countless hours of therapy three times a week, but I'm fine now. As of three weeks ago, my therapy sessions have been reduced to once a week. I've been on partial active duty for six months, which actually worked out rather well for me. I spent my free time studying up on new medical techniques. And now I've been given the okay from Starfleet to return to full active duty. You're looking at the new CMO of this station.

"That's wonderful news," Robin said. "Look, I'm just coming off a very long shift. If you have some free time, would you like to go to one of the cafeterias and talk over a couple of hot drinks?"

"I'd be delighted." Placing her hand gently on the younger woman's back, Beverly accompanied Robin to the girl's favorite hang out. It was a small cafe that played ancient music from several cultures. The eclectic blend was somehow appealing to the majority of young officers aboard the station. Beverly found the music rather soothing. Maybe I'm not so old after all, she mused.

After they had their drinks and were seated at a booth, Beverly said, "I have a feeling that you didn't ask me here just for small talk." She peered curiously into Robin's eyes, wondering what someone she hadn't seen in a few years could possibly have to tell her.

"You're right. You saw right through me." Robin sipped nervously at her hot tea, obviously deliberating how to approach a delicate subject. Robin placed both arms on the table and leaned forward. "So, how did you handle it being out of work all those months. I mean, once you began feeling better, didn't you have a lot of free time on your hands?"

Beverly continued to study the girl. Although Robin had broached a serious subject, the doctor somehow suspected there was a more pertinent reason for this conversation. She only hoped Robin would find the courage to direct the discussion toward the matter.

"I found free time in abundance!" Beverly responded. "My counselor advised me to spend time with relaxing holodeck programs. I did for a while, but even that can get rather boring after several months. I wanted something to do. Even busywork sounded appealing at that point! That's when I began studying up on new medical techniques, as I said before. There'd been quite a few advances during my. . .absence. I wanted to feel normal again, you know. I wanted to be a doctor and treat patients, not be a patient. "I guess the rumor about doctors making the worst patients is true."

Robin chuckled.

"It's easy for us to give out advice, and so hard to take it. I've been placed back on full duty, but that doesn't stop my therapist from telling me to take it easy."

"I don't know, doctor. I have trouble finding time to relax myself. My social life is practically non existent. I can't remember who my last date was."

"A beautiful young woman like you?"

"The truth is I haven't found anyone I'm truly interested in -not since Wesley."

This took Beverly aback for a couple of seconds. She knew that Robin and Wesley had become friends, but she had no idea that Robin was interested in her son."Oh?" was all she could manage.

"I was wondering if you'd heard from him at all."

"I'm afraid not. I know the traveler's looking out for Wes and that Wes is well beyond the stage of needing someone to mother him, but that doesn't stop a mother from worrying. Where is he? What is he doing? Does he think about me and worry about me as much as I do him?"

Robin clutched the doctors hand. "I'm sure your foremost in his thoughts Dr. Crusher. When he visited you right before he joined the traveler, did he say anything about me?"

"No. Is there something I don't know about?"

"Apparently, and I don't know for the life of me why Wesley didn't tell you. Wesley and I grew close when I served my first year out of the academy on board the _Enterprise_. The problem with the Ktarian game had a lot to do with our initially getting hooked up, but we remained close afterward- through subspace communications. Toward the end it had gotten to where we sent each other daily messages."

"Really? I can't understand why he never spoke of you."

"Neither can I. Especially since he had proposed marriage to me only a week before he left with the traveler."

"Proposed to you! But Wesley should have been happy ecstatic even. So why was he so disturbed and put-off by life?"

"That's a question I wish he were here to answer."

During her shift, Beverly reflected over her conversation with Robin. The girl had blossomed into a fine young woman. She was intelligent and at twenty-six had already accomplished a lot during her short career. Beverly wouldn't be surprised if there was a promotion for her in the near future. Why had Wes thrown away a life with a wonderful woman? Beverly would have been proud to call Robin her daughter-in-law. I could have been a grandmother by now, she mused, wondering if that would ever be possible now.

When she came off duty, Crusher went straight to her quarters. She tired easier than she used to before her near-death experience. Near death! Even after two years of therapy, Beverly still had difficulty describing, visualizing the death experience she and everyone else aboard the Stargazer had endured. They had been dead for months-months!-and then brought back to life by an alien-made miracle. Regeneration they had called it. The Akodians felt responsible. After all, it was their wormhole which had caused the Stargazer's destruction.

Almost the moment she stepped into her quarters, Beverly's console beeped with an incoming message. Sighing heavily, she wasn't sure she was up for talking with anyone, but answered it anyway. Her favorite captain greeted her on the small viewscreen, and instantly, she perked up.

"Well, if it isn't Mr. Resilient," she teased him. "How are things with you, Jean-Luc?"

"Actually, I was calling to ask you the same question," he said. "And to ask if you were up for a visit from an old friend. My crew's due for another shore leave, and I thought you and I could spend some time together, maybe act out a holo novel or some other non-productive activity."

"Sounds wonderful."

Picard had returned to command duty a mere six months after their regeneration. According to the Akodians, his was one of the quickest recoveries on record. The Stargazer had been out of commission while he was undergoing therapy, and he had gladly accepted her back from Starfleet when ready to return to duty. Just as much as any member of his crew, she was a victim, having undergone as much scrutiny during those six month's as her captain, and he wanted to personally see her through the transition of rebirth. Of course, he was working with a new crew now; out of twelve hundred crewmembers, only one hundred and seven to date had returned to serve aboard the Stargazer. His first officer, Commander Martha Lasalle, was among those few. She'd been declared fit for duty ten months after regeneration.

"I should be in your area in about five days, six on the outside. By the way, you didn't answer me. How are you feeling?"

"You didn't answer that question either, Mister," Beverly replied with a smirk. "Now that I know you're coming, I'm doing wonderfully. I think some leisure time will be the perfect prescription for both of us."

"I'm glad to hear that. I'm doing quite all right, but my new CMO seems to think I overwork myself."

"Now where would he get an idea like that?"

Picard simply nodded the question away. "How are you adjusting to starbase life after years on a starship?"

"It's quite different. In some ways, I like it better. In other ways, I strongly miss the adventure of discovering the unknown. For a while at least, I want to stay put, catch my bearings, and a starbase simply offers me more of an opportunity to do that. I don't know how on Earth you jumped back on a starship so quickly, Jean- Luc. One of these days, you'll have to share your secret with me."

He smiled, a twinkle forming in his eye, but no offered secrets were forthcoming. "Now, you'll just have to figure that one out for yourself."

"Oh, I have some news that you're not going to believe," Beverly said. "Guess who I ran into today? Robin Lefler!"

"Lefler?" Picard was obviously trying to place a face with the name.

"You know, the young woman who befriended Wesley during the Ktarian Game crisis?" Recognition dawned on the captain's face. "She's a bright young lady, command material, I'm sure of it. We'll have to visit with her while you're here. You can offer her some pointers."

Picard nodded, but his expression conveyed that he had other activities on his mind. "Perhaps a short visit would not impose on the young engineer too much."

"Great! I'll see you in five days then."

After saying her goodbyes with Jean-Luc, Beverly went to the replicator and ordered a light dinner, a salad and a grilled chicken. As she ate, her thoughts wondered to a day several weeks after her regeneration. She barely remembered anything from the weeks previous and so her mind often settled on that first vivid, cohesive memory when she finally became aware that she was truly alive. She was lying on a biobed inside an infirmary. When she sat up and studied her surroundings, she recognized other crewmembers from the Stargazer also either lying or sitting up in beds. At first, she had been confused and couldn't understand why they were all there. Then it all came crashing back down on her; the accident, the regeneration, the treatments. No matter how hard she tried to shut out those memories, from that day forward, she could not block them out.

Beverly slipped on her nightgown a little before 2100 hours. She ordered a warm milk from the replicator and after drinking it, crawled under her covers. She read part of a novel for a little while, but soon could not keep her eyes open. Despite her weariness, she had difficulty slipping fully into sleep. She would almost reach a REM state and something would suddenly jerk her awake.

Minutes or hours later-in her semi-conscious state, she couldn't tell-an odd sensation came over her. She could not describe the emotion she felt, fear, anxiety, a strange longing, maybe all of them in fluxuating degrees. Hearing a ruffling sound at the foot of her bed, she sat up and squinted her eyes to see in the dim light. She thought she saw a shadow, a man perhaps, but before she could focus fully, it disappeared.

"Wesley?" she said aloud.

She had no reason to suspect that Wesley would return after all these years. Hadn't she given up hope a long time ago?

No, she realized. And she had every right to want him back. She was his mother!

"Wesley," she said more softly. "Why are you still avoiding me?"

As she laid back down, Beverly began questioning her sanity. Was she really fit for duty? If she was going to start imagining that she was seeing men in her quarters, maybe she wasn't ready to cut down on her therapy.

Beverly was awoken early by the beeping of her computer console, indicating that she had an incoming message. She did not at first feel alarmed, because she often received messages at odd hours, but she did feel annoyed at the sender's timing. She had just finally gone into a deep sleep.

"This better be important," she muttered as she stepped out of bed. "Computer, increase lighting by 50%." She sat down at her desk and instructed the computer to patch the caller through.

She was surprised to see Will Riker on the screen. She had not seen or heard from him, since he had left her and the rest of the Stargazer crew in the caring hands of the Akodians and qualified Starfleet counselors. She hoped that he was calling to congratulate her on her new commission, but she sincerely doubted it.

"I really hate to bother you at this hour," he said.

"Will, what's wrong?"

"A short while ago, Worf and Deanna, along with Dr. Selar, disembarked from the _Enterprise_aboard the runabout _Huron,_" Will told her. "Their daughter has been in an accident. It's serious, Beverly. Shannara is currently in stasis and has suffered severe brain damage. Dr. Selar has given her prognosis-and it's grim. She believes the girl will require a brain graft. I'm afraid you may be her only hope."

"How long do I have before they arrive?"

"Five, maybe six days."

Not long, Beverly mused. She would need to spend all her free time updating her knowledge of brain grafts. She remembered that the technology had still been in its theory stage at the time of her accident, but hadn't she read in one of the medical journals a couple of months ago that the surgery had proven successful on several species from various worlds?

"I'll be ready for them," she promised.

After saying goodbye to Will, Beverly sent a subspace message to Starfleet Medical requesting a petition to perform the necessary surgery. If she was going to convince the heads of the medical department that the surgery was not only necessary, but that she was the right doctor to perform the surgery, then she had her research ahead of her.

Performing the surgery on any full-blooded species would be difficult, but little Shannara had the makeup of three genetic codes. Each brought its own idiosyncrasies into the equation. What could save the life of one, could kill one of the others. Finding a balance between the three might prove to be the greatest challenge of Beverly's career.

For the next five days, when she was not treating patients, Beverly spent her time in front of a computer console reading and rereading all available information on the brain graft. At first, she had felt overwhelmed about returning to full-time work after having relied on mental crutches for two years, but now with little Shannara depending on her, Beverly felt renewed with a purpose. No longer would she come on duty with lingering doubts of her ability to head the medical team. She would show the heads of Starfleet that they were not wrong to offer her this position.

The brain graft procedure was both astonishing and a bit frightening to her. Beverly had always considered herself a competent-in all honesty, even better than most doctors-but did she possess the ability to perform the controversial surgery?

She continued her research by refreshing her memory of the physiology of Klingons and Betazoids. She drew up graphs comparing the similarities and differences of each genetic code. There weren't very many similarities. In fact, it was not much short of a miracle that Klingon and Betazoid genes could coexist.

A subspace message arrived from Dr. Selar on the evening of the fifth day. They were only a few hours from the station. Shortly afterward, Beverly heard from Admiral Harrison at Starfleet Medical.

"We received your request to perform the experimental brain graft on a young child," he informed her. "I have discussed the proposal with the other board members. I must tell you that we are quite concerned that the child is of three genetic codes."

"I realize that further complicates an already complicated procedure, sir."

"It does indeed. For that reason, we feel we need more information before we can reach a decision."

"I see. The patient, Shannara Rozhenko, will be arriving at this station in a few hours. I will confer with Dr. Selar about the girl's condition at that time as well as perform a thorough examination myself."

"I do trust that you are professional enough not to allow your relationship with the girl's parents to cloud your judgment." A statement, and yet Beverly could hear the question in the admiral's words.

"Of course, sir. I will be as accurate as ever."

"We will make a decision on this matter as quickly as possible. I do understand there's a precious life at stake. I have grandchildren, great grandchildren even. I will be awaiting your report."

"Thank you, Admiral."

Beverly nervously waited out the remaining hours. She was on duty throughout most of it, but there was little for her to do in the infirmary. She had no critical patients to tend to; only three patients using biobeds and under observation. A few crewmembers came in for routine physicals and minor injuries. To Beverly's relief, Robin was one of the officers who stopped by for an examination.

"I'll use any excuse to get away from the jackal," she joked. "And if you find anything wrong with me, maybe you can order me to take a few days of R and R."

"You're in perfect health," the doctor informed her as she set down her medical tricorder. Robin slumped her shoulders in obvious disappointment. "But. . .I'll see what I can do about getting Jeckyl to give you some time off."

"Thanks!" Robin jumped off the biobed. "I guess I should get back to recalibrating those sensor arrays."

After Robin left, Beverly again searched for something to do. Why when she needed busy work could she find none?

So instead, she spent most of her time thinking about what she could say to Deanna. She found it easy to place herself in Deanna's situation. What loving mother couldn't? But that did not bring any words that could truly comfort Deanna or take away the pain she was feeling. No word, no action ever could.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four:

When the time came for Crusher to meet her old friends at the docking bay, she suddenly knew what Deanna needed most-and what she needed to give her. The two friends fell into an embrace, and both women cried freely.

"Please help us, Beverly," Deanna pleaded.

Beverly glanced over at Worf who was standing beside them. She noticed tears rolling down the Klingon's cheeks. She had never seen Worf cry before in the more than a decade they had known each other.

Pulling away from her friend, the doctor nodded and said, "Let's get Shannara down to the infirmary." She approached Dr. Selar, who was standing next to the runabout's open hatch. "What is the girl's current condition?"

"She remains stable. The stasis tube was unaffected by the trip and is operating at ninety-six percent of optimal efficiency." The Vulcan stepped aside to allow her colleague first entrance and then followed Beverly inside. "They are using the first quarters," Dr. Selar informed Beverly as they walked through the bridge and into the runabout's single corridor.

When they stepped into the room, they found Alexander sitting on the sofa with a young black girl roughly his own age. They were staring at his comatose sister, lying in the stasis tube only meters away, and at first, did not realize that anyone had entered the vessel.

Beverly walked over to the small child in the stasis tube and ran her hand along the clear plastic as though the action would sooth the child. Maybe it does, she mused, recalling that Deanna had told her that Shannara had inherited some of her empathic abilities.

"She looks as though she's at peace," Crusher said shakily. Dr. Selar did not share her emotional reaction and yet somehow Beverly felt better speaking aloud. "She's too young to be barely clinging to life!"

Upon hearing those words, Alexander stood and bolted out of the room. The girl acted as though she wanted to follow him, but remained seated, staring anxiously at the doctors.

"The patient was without oxygen for over seven minutes," Dr. Selar began in a methodical tone. "Her lungs were filled with water when the medical team was alerted. They removed the water and quickly stabilized her before having her transported directly to sickbay where she was immediately placed in a stasis tube. The majority of the brain damage is centered on the cerebral cortex and a small portion of the cerebellum. If she does recover, she most likely will require complete motor function therapy."

"But that isn't our first concern," Beverly said expectantly. "I've been researching the laboratory experiments with the brain graft during the past five days. Despite Shannara's blend of genetic codes, I think we have an excellent chance of pulling her through the surgery. The question that's plaguing my mind is will it really be Shannara who comes out of all this? Will her memories be in tact? Will she know who her Mommy and Daddy are?

"If necessary, she will relearn that as well."

Beverly laughed sarcastically. "I'm sure her mother will be overjoyed to hear that. I'll just tell her, 'Don't worry, Deanna. Your baby will recognize you again-someday."

"Now is not the time to allow emotions to control us. We need to carefully plan out and submit our proposed procedure for Starfleet Medical's approval."

"Well, you're levelheaded enough for the both of us, so allow me to get emotional." Beverly turned back to the lifeless little girl. For months, she had wanted to spend some time with Deanna and Worf, to get to know their daughter, but she had been overwhelmed by problems of her own. She hadn't expected to meet Shannara like this. She had thought there was plenty of time. Don't think like that! She chided herself. The baby will get through this, and you and Deanna will get to enjoy some time together afterward. Beverly's face filled with tears.

"Although I do not share your emotional response," Selar began, placing her hands behind her back, "I do wish to see the child reach full recovery, just as you do."

"Thank you, Doctor, if not for understanding, than at least for accepting my Human emotions." Crusher wiped at her face. As she tried to catch her bearings, it grew eerily quiet in the room. Beverly sensed somehow that someone had entered the room and turned around, expecting that Alexander had returned. Instead, another familiar young man stared back at her. He was wearing a plaid shirt with a sleeveless denim jacket. Her son, she realized. But as she took a step toward him, he vanished.

"Is there a problem, Doctor?" Selar asked.

Beverly hesitated before answering. Vulcans already thought Humans insane for their emotions. How would Selar judge her if she told the Vulcan doctor she had just seen a glimpse of her long-lost son? Maybe her mind was playing tricks on her. Maybe, she decided, it was best not to tell anyone that she had seen Wesley, not once, but twice now.

"I'm sorry," she said. "Let's transport the girl to the infirmary, so I can run some additional tests. We better move quickly if we want Starfleet Medical to approve the surgery." Selar nodded once in agreement and Crusher tapped her commbadge. "Crusher to infirmary. Three to beam directly to the infirmary."

Both doctors agreed that Shannara needed to remain in stasis until she could undergo surgery. Fortunately, conducting a brain scan was not impossible under such conditions.

Beverly's tests confirmed Dr. Selar's diagnosis. The two doctors spent the next few hours preparing a thorough report to submit to Starfleet Medical, outlining why they felt a brain graft might succeed in this case. Beverly didn't like referring to Shannara as "a case," but on that part, Dr. Selar won. It would look far more professional in the eyes of Starfleet Medical, the Vulcan argued.

During the late afternoon, Crusher had an appointment scheduled with Counselor Bennett. She thought about canceling it and continue working on her report. But she remembered Bennett admonishing her for working too hard, and he would not take it too well if she canceled now. She needed a break she admitted. And she needed someone a little more emotional than Dr. Selar to talk with about Shannara.

"I was supposed to see my counselor ten minutes ago," Beverly told the Vulcan "If you'll excuse me for an hour or so, I think I better keep the appointment."

"I will be here when you return," Selar responded without looking up from her notes.

"Right." Beverly made her way to the door and glanced back at the other doctor before leaving. She wondered if working too hard applied to Vulcans as well.

"You will contact your father," Worf bellowed at his son's girlfriend as he escorted her to her temporary quarters.

"Yes sir," she replied timidly. I'm sorry. I-I- -"

"Enough! Do as you are told. You will remain in your quarters for the evening. If your father decides it is acceptable for you to remain here for the duration, then we will decide, with his guidance, what is to be done with you."

Rosa felt like old equipment being stashed in a closet somewhere. Why should the Klingon commander be concerned with her? She was just some girl he did not know who had participated in the neglect and subsequent injury of his daughter. She was lucky he wasn't sweeping her under the carpet like dirt!

"I understand, sir." Still she stood out in the corridor like an idiot, unsure if she should say anymore to him. What could he possibly want to hear from her?

"For the evening means now, young lady."

Now his words did galvanize her, and she slipped into the small, one-bedroom quarters that had been afforded her. She stared at the sparse living area and for a moment in her emotional numbness, forgot what she was supposed to be doing. When it dawned on her, Rosa slowly and with great trepidation, walked over to the computer console and instructed it to send a subspace message to Lieutenant Daniel Cassadaga aboard the USS_Enterprise_. She didn't know how to explain why she had stowed away on the _Huron_, so she simply asked her father to contact her at his convenience. She knew how worried her parents must be. The realization brought her further shame.

"I'm sorry I'm late, Counselor," Beverly said as she stepped into her psychologist's office.

"It's all right," he assured her. "You are my last patient for the day anyway."

"I have to admit, I almost didn't come. I'm in the middle of a very important case and I feel guilty pulling away from my little patient even for an hour."

"You must remind yourself that an overly exhausted doctor can do her patients more harm than good. You are not neglecting your work. You are resting, so you can focus better on each task."

Yes, and that's why I decided to keep this appointment. I've been working closely with a Vulcan doctor, Dr. Selar. I worked with her before on the_Enterprise_ for several years. We've always worked well together. Don't get me wrong; our work has gone smoothly today. But with our current case, like never before, I find her emotional reserve quite unnerving."

"I can understand that. I've dealt with a few Vulcans in my time."

Beverly allowed herself to smile slightly. "It's been a very trying day. You heard about young Shannara Rozhenko, didn't you?"

Dr. Bennett nodded. "Yes. Perhaps you should suggest to the family that they stop by to see me. They shouldn't try to deal with the trauma on their own."

"Agreed." Beverly hesitated before shifting back to herself. "I know I promised you I would take it easy and rely heavily on my staff, but I've been having so much trouble relaxing the past few days."

"That's understandable. Have you been taking anything to help you relax?"

"Just a glass of warm milk before I go to bed every night. It's what I prescribe to all my insomnia patients."

"Good. Tell me how working with the Rozhenko girl makes you feel."

"It reminds me how unfair life can be. I am truly worried about the girl, but I can't help thinking about my own mortality. It reminds me of my own regeneration all over again. And when I look into her mother's eyes, my dear friend, Deanna, I can't help but think about how I lost my son. He's not dead and yet it feels that way sometimes. It really hurt me when he didn't show up after my regeneration. I needed him then more than ever! Surely the Traveler wouldn't keep Wesley from me during a time of need. So why has he never contacted me? I'm being very selfish, aren't I?"

"You shouldn't look at it that way," Bennett encouraged her. "You're Human. You have feelings. To deny them would be to deny a part of yourself. You need to worry about your health first. If you are not well, how can you help Shannara?"

Beverly stared into the counselor's eyes for a long moment. She wasn't sure if she should say more. Would he think she was backsliding if she told him about her visions of Wesley? Of course! A voice inside her screamed. She couldn't bear the thought of being placed on medical leave again!

"There's something more you need to tell me." Bennett was not a Betazed, and yet he often seemed as perceptive as one.

"You may think I've gone crazy and that I should resume extensive therapy and maybe you would be right, but it doesn't do me any good to keep things from my therapist." She sighed heavily, paused and sighed again. "So here it goes. I've seen my son. I've seen Wesley. The first time, I was almost certain I'd imagined it. I had fallen asleep when something awoke me. The lighting in the room was very dim, but I swear I saw a man standing at the end of my bed. I called out to him-actually, I called out 'Wesley.' I'm not sure why really. I couldn't see his face, so I had no way to suspect it was my son. You're probably thinking I should have screamed. A man in my bedroom! Yet oddly I wasn't afraid."

"And you saw him again later?" Bennett's tone revealed neither doubt nor belief, only a willingness to listen.

"Yes. It was right after the Rozhenko's arrived. I saw him on the runabout. He was only there for a brief moment, but that time I was certain it was him. The room was fully lit and he was standing no more than ten meters away from me."

"Did anyone else see him?"

"I don't think so. He disappeared after a few seconds. Only Dr. Selar and a young girl the Rozhenkos brought with them were in the room. Dr. Selar had her back turned. Maybe the girl, Rosa I think her name is, saw Wesley, but she seemed almost in shock. I'm not even sure she fully realized I was in the room. You must think I'm nuts! Please don't tell me that this is some bizarre side effect of regeneration. After two years, I don't think I could handle another one."

"I don't believe this has anything to do with your regeneration," Bennett said to her relief. "I think it has more to do with your work. Certainly, we both agree that handling Shannara Rozhenko's case has placed you under a lot of stress. While I do feel you are well enough to continue working, you need to pace yourself, allow your staff to shoulder some of the burden."

Beverly knew he was offering her sound advice. Following it was the real problem. "I'll try," she managed.

"Good. I would give you the same advice whether you were seeing glimpses of your estranged son or not. I know that you were hurt deeply when your son chose to leave with the Traveler."

Since Bennett had taken over her case three weeks ago. Beverly had spent much of the time telling him about her son and about his relationship with the enigmatic Traveler. "It's understandable that you are longing for his return." Beverly held her breath. He did think she was imagining it! "And given what you've told me about the Traveler and the abilities he bestowed on your son, I won't rule out the possibility that you really have seen your son."

"You think he finally wants to see me? That he's gotten homesick?"

Bennett raised a hand to calm the anxious mother. "All I'm saying is that if you have another incident, I don't want you to be afraid to tell me about it."

"I will, Counselor and thank you for not assuming that I've regressed."

"Relax," Bennett said, smiling jovially. You won't do yourself or your patients any good if you continue to stretch yourself too far. You've come a long way, and if you keep up the progress, soon you won't even need me."

"I'm not in that much of a rush!" Beverly replied. She wanted to be proclaimed mentally stable, but she couldn't quite give up her crutch yet.

Cassadaga took less than an hour to reply to his daughter. His dark, burly features nearly covered the entire screen."Rosa, of all the impetuous-"

"Daddy, please let me explain. I had to come."

"So you've gone traipsing off to be with your lover. Is that how it is?" Just how involved have you become with the Rozhenko boy?"

There it was lying thick between them, the question Rosa did not want to answer. Her parents knew that she had been seeing Alex for a while, because she had brought him to her quarters a few times to study together. Of course, they would wonder how far the relationship had gone. Rosa was not so naive to not realize that her father had been hoping it would never evolve into anything more than friendship.

"I'm waiting for an answer."

"No! I mean-that's not exactly why I decided to come with them. I'm worried about Alex' little sister. She may die! I really love him, Daddy, and I think he loves me, too and I can't bear to see them in pain. There's nothing wrong with my dating a Klingon. Please don't by angry."

He sighed. "It's not that I mind my daughter seeing a Klingon boy. It's the twenty-fourth century, after all. We deal with this sort of thing every day. You're both just so young. You're not ready for a mature relationship."

And his mother was half human," Rosa informed him, ignoring the other issue. Did you know that? She had a difficult time fitting in with both humans and Klingons. Don't make Alex feel that way!"

"Rosa, I'm going to tell you something I should have told you long ago. Five generations ago...six for you...my three times great grandfather married a caucasian woman and they had a son together, who eventually became the grandfather to my grandfather."

"So, I have a little white blood in me. Daddy, this is the twenty-fourth century. Who's going to care?"

"No matter how much of a Utopia the Federation builds itself up to be, prejudices will never entirely go away. You'd be wise to keep that in mind, Rosa, especially while dating a Klingon boy."

"I was visiting Alex when the accident happened," Rosa admitted.

"I didn't know," he responded, alarm plastering his features. He backed up slightly. At least he no longer appeared angry. "How are you doing? Are you handling the situation okay?"

Feeling slightly dizzy, Rosa closed her eyes for a moment before answering. "I can't get the image out of my mind. She was purple when he pulled her out of the water! I can't hardly sleep and when I do, I have nightmares about her."

"Have you spoken with anyone about this?"

"I've seen the psychologist aboard the station, Counselor Bennett. He's a good man. He really wants to help me."

"Good. I want you to continue seeing him."

"You mean. . .I can stay here?"

"For the time being. I think it is best for you to see this to its conclusion. And since you've already begun therapy with one counselor. . .well, it would be too disconcerting to uproot you now and switch counselors midstream."

Rosa sighed heavily. "Thanks Daddy."

"Now that doesn't mean you're free to do as you please. I expect to hear from you at least once a day."

"Of course."

That night, Crusher and Selar finally sent their report to Starfleet Medical in a secured subspace transmission.

Beverly's first impulse after leaving her office was to go to Deanna and comfort her friend. She was sure her old friend was not sleeping, and probably would refuse to until hearing the diagnosis. Deanna helped me right after my regeneration, Beverly thought with a heavy sigh. Now it's time for me to return the favor.

She made it halfway to the Rozhenko's quarters when her commbadge beeped. An engineer on gamma duty in the docking bay came across the channel to inform her that the Stargazer had arrived. Suddenly, she realized that she'd forgotten all about Jean-Luc's planned visit.

"I'm on my way," she said into her commbadge, deciding she would talk with the captain first. He could accompany her to Worf and Deanna's quarters. He would want to be there for them, to help in anyway possible. Yes, she thought as she changed directions, having Jean-Luc around will be quite helpful. He's always been my anchor. Mr. Resilient.

He was waiting for her in Docking Bay Two. As she approached, he observed, "You don't look very happy to see me."

"I am happy to see you." Beverly wrapped her arms around the captain, nuzzling her chin into his neck. I'm relieved to see you."

"What's wrong?" Picard could always tell when something was bothering his favorite doctor.

"It's Worf and Deanna, Jean-Luc," she responded as she pulled away from him. "Their daughter has been injured."

"It must be pretty serious for them to bring her all the way out here."

"It is. She nearly drowned in a tub of water. Alexander found her several minutes later."

"Brain damage, then?" Picard asked with a heavy heart.

"Irreparable by conventional means. She's clinically still alive and yet... what kind of life is it?" Breaking down, Beverly collapsed into Jean-Luc's arms. For a long moment, they stood there, him comforting her with his embrace. "I was on my way to see them when I received word that you had arrived." Beverly pulled away to look him in the eyes. "There's an experimental brain graft procedure. It's been successfully tried on several non-sentient species and Dr. Selar and I prepared a proposal to Starfleet Medical requesting to attempt the surgery on Shannara."

"But you're dealing with the brain, the very center of her sentience. What if it worked on other species because of their lack of sentience?"

Beverly hesitated before answering. She knew he was right to question the validity of the surgery. Similar questions had been racing through her head for days! But dammit, what other choice did she have? "It's her only hope."

With a heavy breath, Picard said, "Well, let's go pay our respects to Worf and Deanna. Shall we?"

"I'm glad you're here, Jean-Luc." Beverly cupped her arm inside his and together, they left the docking bay.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five:

Alexander meandered throughout the station, unsure where he belonged or what he should be doing. He couldn't face his parents' pain and anger. Not now. He wanted to be punished, needed to be punished. But no matter what his father said or did to him, nothing would obliterate the harm that had come to Shannara. He could not erase the image of her small, lifeless body from his mind. If she didn't recover after the surgery, he expected he would never fully rise from this funk.

He entertained thoughts of running away. But where would he run to? Perhaps he would stowaway on one of the many ships now docked at the station. Just go wherever it took him.

He continued down the corridor at a fast gait, not making eye contact with anyone he passed, even those who acknowledged him with a nod or a "hello." However, when he heard a familiar voice calling out to him, he could not ignore it as easily. He turned around to stare into Rosa's brown eyes.

Her eyes were swollen from tears, and Alex could see a fresh batch clinging to her eyelashes. "I know I shouldn't have come along without permission, but I had to come. I feel every bit as guilty as you do." When he didn't respond, she added, "I don't know what else to say to you." She folded her arms around her chest in complete resignation.

"It's my fault," he said and turned away from her. "I was the one who was suppose to be watching her. I should never have invited you over to my quarters."

Slowly, with a great deal of trepidation, Rosa walked up to him and placed her hand on his shoulder. "Don't shut me out, okay? I think we really need to talk about this."

Her touch sent warm shivers running through his body. He wanted her. Even in his current state, he wanted her so very badly! I can't give into my desires, he thought and pushed her away with a force that belied his sexual tension. "What is there to say?" he snapped. "That could magically bring my sister back to us?"

Brusquely, he walked away from her, not looking back to gauge the level of torment he had inflicted. Eventually, he found a cafeteria and sat down. Although he had ate little during the trip, he still had no appetite. He asked only for a glass of water from the waitress. He would remain there for the time being, he decided, in this bench on the far side of the room where he had no one to talk to.

Worf returned to their guest quarters to start unpacking their belongings. After spending hours in the infirmary waiting for any news, Worf decided that maybe some busywork was what he needed. It wasn't that Beverly or one of her assistants didn't come out to talk with them frequently, but none of them seemed to have much to offer. Shannara's vital signs were stabilized as long as they kept her in the stasis tube. There was virtually nothing they could do at the moment to improve her condition.

Worf had finished putting away his clothes and was just moving on to Deanna's when the annunciator chimed. Maybe someone had come to deliver good news after all, he feebly hoped, and walked to the living area.

"Enter," He said gruffly and when the door opened to reveal his mother-in-law, he quickly went to her.

Without words, Lwaxana did something she never before in her life had done. She reached out to Worf and offered him a firm hug. And although he never would have dreamed of doing so before, Worf accepted her comfort graciously. A minute, perhaps two passed before they released each other and walked over to the sofa where they could talk.

"There is no change," She said knowingly. If she couldn't read his thoughts, she would have known it by his expression anyway.

"They do not expect there will be," Worf replied in a barely controlled voice. "They want to perform an experimental brain graft surgery, but they need approval from Starfleet Medical before they can proceed."

"How does she...look?" Lwaxana asked.

"You didn't stop by-you haven't seen her?"

"I couldn't." Lwaxana quieted as grief racked her entire being. "Worf, I don't know how much Deanna told you about my daughter Kestra, her big sister."

"She died by drowning," Worf responded. He suddenly realized just how difficult it would be for Lwaxana to look at her granddaughter and not let it dredge up old memories of her own guilt over Kestra's death.

"I want to remember Shannara as she was two months ago when I last saw her. I don't want to see her the way she is now!"

Deanna entered the quarters just in time to hear her mother's confession. Mother and daughter locked gazes. Worf assumed they were communicating telepathically, for neither spoke aloud. Finally, Deanna drew closer to them and sat down in between them. Lwaxana offered a grasp of comfort and for a long moment, their silence said more than words ever could.

Worf sat still, watching the women and waiting for one of them to speak first.

"I thought I understood before what it was like for you after you lost Kestra," Deanna said. "I thought I could feel what you felt through my empathic abilities." She released her grip on her mother's hand to raise both of her hands to her face. "but that doesn't compare to how raw fresh pain makes me feel!"

Both husband and mother placed their hands on each of Deanna's shoulders. Their comfort offered little solice to Deanna as she fell into retching sobs. They allowed Deanna her tears and several minutes passed before the spell was over and she wiped at her swollen eyes and runny nose.

"The commander of this station has assigned me quarters right next to yours," Lwaxana told them. "I think maybe I should go unpack and allow you two some time alone."

Neither protested, but Worf said, "If you would like to talk more later-"

"I know where to find you," she finished for him. "Right now I need to be alone and sort some things out." She glanced sympathetically at her daughter. "Little one, I wish I could take all your pain and smother it."

For a moment, Deanna grew solemn as she looked up at her mother. "Your pain is as great as mine. I love you mother. Please lets talk in the morning."

With a nod, Lwaxana exited their quarters.

Deanna slid off the sofa and onto the floor. At first Worf did not understand why-until she reached under the sofa and pulled out Shannara's stuffed dog. When had she placed it there? He decided it wasn't really important and joined his wife on the floor.

Deanna petted gently at the toy and soon noticed that the seam was coming loose underneath one of its ears.

"Poor little doggie's seen better days." She said.

"It is in better shape than most of her toys." He reminded her.

"It's her favorite. She won't even take her afternoon nap if she doesn't have it by her side. That's why I brought it. When our little girl wakes up, she'll want him."

"Of course." Worf slid his hand around hers and squeezed gently.

"What if she doesn't remember, Worf? I know the doctors will tell us to be grateful if the surgery works and she's alive, but I can't help thinking about it! What if our little girl looks up at us and she's frightened?"

"I must admit that the same thoughts have plagued my mind. She will be disoriented. That much is certain. It will take time for all of us to readjust. She is young and maybe that will make things easier. Eventually she will forget the trauma-at least consciously."

"Now I'm beginning to ask myself what if this changes her? What if she not only doesn't remember us, but also isn't really our girl anymore? If her brain is altered, will she act the same? Will she be our Shannara?"

"I want to open up her stasis tube," Worf admitted, "and just hug her as always when I return from a hard days work. Now I cannot even comfort her. I want our daughter back as much as you do, but no matter what happens, I will always love her."

Clutching the dog to her chest, Deanna nodded.

Their annunciator sounded and they stared into each others glistening eyes before Worf acknowledged it with an "enter."

Picard and Beverly stepped inside, both offering sympathy and prayers without a word.

"Captain!" Worf exclaimed, rising to his feet.

Deanna remained on the floor clutching the stuffed dog. She acknowledged her former captain with a smile.

"I didn't realize you were in the area." Worf said to Picard.

" Well, I actually," the captain began slowly, "came to see Beverly. I didn't know about Shannara until I arrived here. I'm so sorry."

" Thank your for your concern, sir." Worf felt no shame in letting his tears flow freely. He turned to the doctor. He wanted to ask her for her prognosis, but he was too afraid to hear that his daughter might die. "Have you seen Alexander?"

Deanna favored her husband with a look of surprise, but did not say anything.

"No," Beverly replied. "Not since you first arrived. I've been in the infirmary until just before the captain showed up."

Silence passed between the four, each of them glancing from one to another unsure how to proceed.

"You can bring her back to us, can't you?" Deanna asked in a quivering voice. "Please tell us the surgery will work!"

"I believe there is an excellent chance. Dr. Selar and I spent the entire evening preparing our report to Starfleet Medical. I am confident they will approve the surgery."

" You mean there is still a chance they will refuse to let you operate?" Worf growled.

"I know how difficult this is for you. To lose a child is the most agonizing-" As Beverly choked on a sob, Picard placed his arm around her. "Unfortunately no matter how heart-wrenching the situation, Starfleet Medical has to distance themselves and examine every angle carefully. Their biggest concern-and mine as well-is Shannara's mixed bloodline. I have to thoroughly explore all possible complications so I can prepare for them."

"If she were full blooded-" Deanna began.

"That would offer no guarantee. We can't let ourselves start worrying about impossibilities. We have to concentrate on the real situation and save your daughter."

"I planned to be here for three days," Picard said, "but I will put in a special request to Starfleet to permit me to remain here to help you through this tragedy."

Worf wanted to say something to Picard, to show his appreciation. He stepped closer to the older man and before he could do or say anything, Picard grasped him by the shoulder.

"You're a strong man, Worf," Picard said. "Help your wife; offer her some of your strength." He nodded toward Beverly. "Just remember, we have a miracle worker among us."

"I wish you hadn't referred to me as a miracle worker," Beverly said a moment later out in the corridor, "If I dont save their daughter-and you know we have to face that possibility-they may blame me now more than ever." She quickened her pace.

"Beverly wait!"

She kept going for a minute before turning around to listen to his plea. She tried to look angry, but actually she wanted to forgive him. "This had better be good."

"I only meant to lighten their despair. If I placed you on too high a pedestal, Then I'm sorry."

She mulled over this for a moment.

"You have been a great friend to them for many years," Picard continued. "They realize you will try everything within your power to save their daughter."

"And you're here to remind me of that?" Beverly smiled.

"How about a late dinner? I bet you haven't eaten in hours."

"Why is it you know me so well?"

With a smug smile, he slipped his arm around hers, and they walked to one of the station's restaurants together.

"So how's Martha?" Beverly asked after they sat down to eat their meals. While they had served together aboard the Stargazer, Beverly and Martha Lasalle had become good friends. After sharing the regeneration experience, their bond had only grown stronger.

"Remarkably well. Better than most. She's somewhere on the station, of course. Perhaps you'll take the time to talk with her tomorrow."

"Have you kept tabs on the remainder of the crew? I hear there are some who haven't returned to duty."

"Nearly two hundred of our original crew members have resigned, actually."

"That's sad to hear, but not very surprising."

"It gets a bit worse I'm afraid. You remember Ensign Tuck?"

"Yes she's the young Bajoran who claimed to remember spending time in Heaven."

"Five weeks ago, she committed suicide."

She didn't know how to respond. During her recovery she had had a lot of ups and downs. Some of the downs had been pretty low, but she had never considered ending her life. Why had Tuck's experience been so different?

"Did she have any family?"

"Quite a large one, I believe." He looked away from Beverly to stare at his food. "I'm not sure, really. I just-" A single tear slid down his cheek.

Beverly reached out and grasped the captain's hand. Even Mr. Resilient had a weak point. "We're survivors, Jean-Luc. We have each other to lean on. Together, we will make it."

Nodding, Picard leaned toward her and she accepted his embrace. She allowed him his turn to cry and ironically drew her own inner strength from being able to comfort her dearest friend. What was once true; What was always true-they could count on each other.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six:

It had been far too long since Beverly had shared croissants and tea over breakfast with Jean-Luc. They had parted after dinner the night before, and Beverly did not need Betazoid senses to realize that neither of them had wanted to leave the company of the other. Yet as they had many times over the years, they each returned to their own quarters-alone.

Now here was Jean-Luc Picard standing in the doorway to her quarters, asking if he could come inside and share breakfast with his favorite doctor. How could she possibly refuse him?

She let him inside and he sat down at the small table in her living area while she replicated the meal.

"Smells delicious," he said as she placed hot croissants and a cup of Earl Grey before him. He sipped at the tea, savoring its flavor. "Somehow, it tastes even better in your company."

"Oh really? Have the replicators on the Stargazer been malfunctioning again?" she teased as she picked up one of the croissants.

"Did I ever tell you how beautiful you are when you wrinkle your nose?"

She finished chewing before replying. "If I didn't know better, Jean-Luc, I'd swear you were trying to seduce me."

"Perhaps you don't know any better," he said and leaned forward to cup her face in his hands. "It's been far too long, Beverly. Regeneration not only brought me back to life; it awakened me. I have a lot of regrets about my past life, and one of them is that I didn't do this sooner."

He brought his lips to her's and she accepted them eagerly. Quickly, they abandoned their meal and retreated to Beverly's private bedroom.

"And are you sorry you waited to do this?" she quipped as they began helping each other out of their clothing.

"My regrets run so deep," he replied, nibbling at her ear.

"Tell me more of your regrets."

"I'd rather show you."

Slipping out of her under clothes, Beverly allowed him to lead her to the bed.

"So often I've wanted to do this." He kissed her along the neck and down the shoulder. "And this." His mouth reached her breast, lingering at her nipple before traveling to the other.

"Oh show me more!" she panted and moaned with pleasure.

"And then I thought about moving downward."

"Is this what you dreamed of during those long hours in your Ready Room?" She guided him toward her wet mound, her breathing quickening. "All this time, you pretended you were just reading Shakespeare. Ohhh. . .I can't wait any longer, Jean-Luc. Mount me now!"

Eager to comply, the captain rolled her onto her side and engaged her in such exquisite pleasures. It had been so long since either of them had had a lover. He knew how to excite her, though, running his fingers and lips along her most sensitive areas.

Beverly could not recall the exact moment she had fallen in love with Jean-Luc Picard and although there had been affairs along the way, Odan most prominent in her mind, she had always found herself back in the position of fighting her attraction to Picard. Why had they denied themselves this pleasure for so long?

She rolled into the top position to more easily manipulate her movement. Gyrating her hips, she enlisted moans of pleasure from both of them as a warm, tickling sensation ran between her legs, escalating with each rock, bounce and jiggle. He coaxed her downward so to suckle again at her nipples. This sent shivers throughout her body as she drew nearer to coming. She felt him spasm inside her followed a moment later by the warm trickle of his cum. A few more rocks and she, too, felt a wave hit her.

"Oh Beverly," he said softly, lovingly as she placed her head atop his chest. He ran his hands through her red hair. "I could stay here, on this station, with you forever."

She rolled off of him and with her hand propping up her head, peered into his eyes. "I believe you love me, Jean-Luc, but we both know you would never be happy anywhere but on a Starship."

He sighed heavily with resignation. "Come join me, then. There's a place for you on my ship-and in my heart."

"I'm afraid I'm just not ready to return to that life." They stared silently, longingly into each other's eyes.

"Long-distance relationships never work," he reminded her. "If only we'd done this years ago. . ."

She rolled onto her back, musedly contemplating the depth of that statement. "Regrets always seem to get in our way, don't they, Jean-Luc?"

After a long silence, the captain said, "I think I'll take those croissants now."

"I'll make you a fresh tea," she said as she got up to gather her discarded clothing.

Once dressed, he followed her out into the living area. He hugged her from behind as she replicated his tea and nuzzled her on the neck.

"Jean-Luc, you can't possibly want another round." She turned slowly to face him so as not to spill the hot tea. "You are resilient!" She wrinkled her nose in that lovable way. "Makes me wish I had more time."

He accepted the drink from her. "Pity you don't. But Shannara needs you."

"Speaking of needing, Deanna and Worf agreed to meet with Counselor Bennett today," Beverly told him.

"I'm glad to hear that," Picard replied as they ventured over to the table and began eating. After a long moment, he added, "One thing I certainly learned from my own therapy is that mental health is every bit as important to care for as your physical health."

"And often the recovery takes far longer than any physical injury. If only I knew how to comfort them, to help them get through the coming days."

Picard grasped her hand. "You're doing just fine. I could tell they appreciate your efforts."

"But are my efforts enough?"

"Beverly, you know I can't answer that. You're doing the best you can by their daughter. Her odds of recovering would be no better with any other doctor. You need to stop feeling guilty about any Human shortcomings. We must all face them."

They finished eating in relative silence, their only communication touching and smiling.

As Beverly gathered their empty dishes, she asked, "Shall we do lunch, too?"

"I would love that. I'd love to spend the entire day with you if I could."

"Makes me wish I weren't scheduled to go to the infirmary. But you know I have patients counting on me." She leaned over and kissed him gently on the lips. "Lunch it is then. See you at 1250 hours."

"I have a 9:15 appointment with Counselor Bennett," Deanna told her mother as they were finishing their breakfast. "Perhaps you should see him as well."

Lwaxana waved the notion off. "I'm doing fine."

"Mother, I can sense how upset you are. You're hurting, too. Why do you not wish to care for yourself?"

"Tell me, Little One, how did you find your rationale this morning? You were plenty upset last night. I mean, how can we go on if a two-year old child-a child of our flesh and blood-must suffer so?"

"I am not fine, but I have to function for my little girl's sake. For the same reason, I am concerned for you, Mother. We have to hold ourselves together and be there for Shannara when she wakes up."

Lwaxana fixed her daughter with a bewildered stare. "Darling, how much sleep did you get last night?"

"Enough."

"How much?"

"Maybe four hours."

"If that is all you are getting each night, then you are hardly functioning yourself. But let's stop lecturing each other, okay? I agree that we need to pool together. If we can't count on each other-"

Before Lwaxana could finish, Deanna went around the table and Mother and daughter accepted each other's comforting embrace.

When Picard returned to his station quarters, he found his first officer standing out in the corridor waiting for him. He could see the concern on her face, unnecessary by his opinion. With dread, he walked up to her.

"So did you tell her?" Martha asked urgently.

"You knew very well that I couldn't."

"The longer you put it off the more difficult it will be."

"You're not my mother," he said tersely and stepped into his quarters. He should never have confided in Martha.

Beverly arrived at the infirmary at 8:30 and spoke with the nurse who had been on duty for the night shift. As expected, there had been no change in Shannara Rozhenko's condition.

She thought about her time with Jean-Luc and how it could be a new beginning for them if she really wanted it. Then she looked down at Shannara's lifeless face and wondered if it weren't the end for the Rozhenkos. Could Worf and Deanna support each other if their daughter didn't make it, or would they drift further apart?

Contrasting her happiness with their pain, Crusher felt guilty. It didn't matter that she had endured her own share of pain over the past two years. There was nothing worse than losing a child!

Her first patient arrived for the day, and the doctor turned to offer them aid.

Counselor Bennett greeted Deanna at his office door and walked her over to a chair. She seemed almost unable to walk on her own. "I know how difficult this is for you," he said as he made his way around his desk. "Take your time. When you're ready to talk, I'll be here to listen."

She could not meet his gaze and so she stared at her fidgeting hands. On several occasions, she'd counseled grieving friends, spouses. . .parents. How much more difficult it was to be the patient! "If my little girl doesn't make it, then I don't want to live either."

"That is a common feeling, Mrs. Rozhenko. I understand that you are also a counselor. Your judgment, I'm sure, is a bit clouded right now. But if you will allow me to tell you a little story about a seven-year old boy who fell off a cliff."

A moment passed before Deanna realized he was waiting for her approval. She nodded, her face remaining a mask of anguish.

"He was instructed to stay close to the house, but he enjoyed climbing too much and wanted to reach the top of a hill to stare down at the most breathtakingly clear river. He almost managed it, too. He was nearly to the top when he slipped on some rocks and tumbled more than thirty meters. Fortunate for him, he wasn't dead on impact. Unfortunate for him, he spent over an hour immobilized and in severe pain before someone found him. He had busted ribs, a punctured lung, fractured hip bone and bruises that left him unrecognizable.

"He lived through the accident and learned a valuable lesson that day-and he learned how to sympathize with others who are hurting because a loved one is injured." He leaned forward. "It's easy to blame ourselves, Mrs. Rozhenko, for whatever reasons. It's much harder to forgive ourselves." Bennett paused, hoping his story would give his patient the courage to speak up.

"Everyone assumes that Alexander is solely to blame for Shannara's injury," she said weakly. "I am angry, very angry, but not just at him. I'm the one who likes to take real baths with real water-not those pseudo showers. I've asked myself why a thousand times." Now she did look up at Bennett and burst into tears. "Why didn't I remember to empty the tub? I only needed to utter three simple words, 'Computer, drain tub,' and my baby wouldn't be in the infirmary in a stasis tube right now fighting for her life."

"You didn't know. Everyone forgets now and then. That doesn't mean that you wanted to hurt your daughter. Don't convince yourself that you are a bad person."

"Bad? How can I ever tell my husband what I've done? Worf will never understand."

"Do not sell your husband short. He is grieving as you are now. When he begins to think more clearly, chances are he will view this as an accident. You need to ask yourself whether you feel it is right to allow him to continue to believe that your stepson is solely at fault? Or would it be better in the long run to tell Worf the truth?"

"I want to tell him. It's just. . .so difficult. In all the years I've known my husband, I'd never seen him cry before. He loves our daughter so much. He would do anything for her. Worf and I have always been so happy and now I can hardly bare to look at him."

"That will pass in time. How are you sleeping?"

"I take a couple of naps a day. I can't sleep very long at a stretch. My dreams-they're horrible."

"Perhaps talking about them would help you."

"I'm not ready to talk about them."

"In all your years of counseling, I imagine you've told at least a few patients how important it is to understand their dreams, particularly those they find disturbing."

"I'm not ready," she reiterated. I don't think I ever will be."

"For your sake, I hope you're wrong." He leafed through his appointment book. "I'd like to see you again in three days, same time, but if you wish to speak with me any time before then, don't hesitate to contact me."

"Please have a seat, Commander Worf," Bennett said ten minutes later, gesturing.

"I would rather stand," the Klingon responded.

"Very well, then," the counselor shifted uncomfortably in his desk chair. He felt uncomfortable peering so far up at the tall Klingon. He was the one who was supposed to be calm, rational, and in control of the situation. "Why don't you tell me how you feel?"

"I feel angry!" After only a slight hesitation, he added, "and I feel so out of control of my pain. I never thought I would make a good parent. When Alexander first joined me on the _Enterprise_, we had a lot of problems, but then, with Deanna's help, we became a family. Now-I feel as though I failed with him somehow. I thought I had instilled trust and honor into my son. It is my duty to teach him his responsibility. I accepted that he did not wish to become a warrior, but to be so irresponsible! A Klingon not only dishonors himself by such immature actions. He dishonors his family for several generations!"

In a soothing voice, Bennett said, "Consider this carefully, do you also blame yourself for your daughter's accident?"

A growl rumbled deeply in the Klingon's throat. "I should not have gone out that evening."

"Every parent deserves a little time away from their children. Wanting it is not evil. It does not mean you don't love your kids."

"But if I hadn't-"

"You could not predict what was about to happen."

"No, I could not. I trusted the boy. Why did I not see that he wasn't ready for the responsibility?"

"It is a difficult thing to judge. Sometimes, even the most responsible people behave irrationally. Have you spoken with him about what happened?"

"I do not wish to speak with the boy at this time."

"And why is that?"

"Because I am afraid of what I might do to him," Worf answered honestly. "I do not trust myself with my own son! He has behaved most dishonorably."

"You realize that nothing can be resolved between you until you begin to open up communication again, don't you? I believe you could all benefit from a family session. Would you agree to counseling with your wife and son?"

Worf mused over this question for a minute. He had once thought himself incapable of becoming a family man. Despite his warrior attitude, he had been frightened when first faced with raising Alexander. Fortunately, Deanna had been around to help him figure out the proper way to guide a young boy toward manhood. No one had been more surprised than he was when his feelings toward the counselor had changed, how easily he had come to imagening a life with her. Now they were a family. He would do anything to keep his family together.

"Commander?"

"Yes, I will consent to family counseling."

"Good. I have another session with your wife in three days. Perhaps you can convince her that it would be best if you all came in together."

"I will try," the Klingon promised. Then he finally sat down and bringing his face to his hands, hid his anguish. "As a Klingon, I am supposed to be brave and strong. I am always ready to face battles without fear, but I cannot control whether my daughter lives or dies. It is a battle she must face on her own."

"And does that pain you most of all, that you cannot protect your daughter?"

"Yes. As her father, it is my duty to protect her."

"It is not easy to accept that you are unable to protect your children. No matter how careful or how loving you are, accidents can happen. You must find a way within yourself to learn how to cope with your own vulnerabilities in this situation. Your daughter needs your strength and your love."

"How can I comfort her when I cannot even hold her?" Worf fought against tears. He could not let another man-not even his counselor-see him cry.

"Talk to her. Sing to her. Tell her stories. Coma patients can hear and understand much of what is said to them. Her father's voice will comfort her."

After leaving Counselor Bennett's office, Worf went to the infirmary. He found Deanna already there, standing quietly over their daughter.

Approaching them and placing his arm around Deanna, he said, "Shannara, your Daddy is here." He raised his other hand to the stasis tube. "Don't be afraid. I will tell you stories and sing to you."

Deanna looked at her husband and smiled sweetly. She raised her free hand and placed it atop his. "Tell her the one about the warrior who faced seven enemies and still came out victorious."

"You are referring to 'The Hero of Seven Calamities'?" They both lowered their gaze to their daughter, and Worf began the story. "Once there was a brave warrior. . . ."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven:

Picard arrived at the infirmary for lunch at the agreed upon time. Beverly was finishing up with a patient, but nodded in his direction to let him know she had seen him enter. While he waited, his attention diverted toward Worf and Deanna, who were hovering over their unconscious daughter. He wanted to go to them and offer words of further comfort. What could he say, though? There were no magical words that would restore the child to health. Better not to disturb their privacy, he decided.

"Jean-Luc," Beverly said as she approached him. The Captain did not turn to look at her, and her gaze wandered in the same direction. "They've been here for a long while." He suspected as much. "They're doing the only thing they can for their daughter right now- talking to her. It's the best therapy-for all of them."

"Has Lwaxana been to see the child yet?" He remembered the difficulty Deanna's mother had had dealing with her eldest daughter's death even years after the tragedy and felt a great sympathy for her now.

"No. And that troubles me. You know how she suppressed her own daughter's death. I fear she may suffer another telepathic breakdown if she doesn't come to grips with her granddaughter's injury. Quite frankly, Jean-Luc, one coma patient at a time, is more than enough for me to handle."

"I never thought I'd hear myself saying this, but perhaps we should invite Lwaxana to join us for lunch. She should not be alone at a time like this."

They turned toward each other. Their plans of spending a few days alone together were certainly shattered. Picard felt a deep regret, not over inviting Lwaxana to join them, but because he had allowed the beginning of a relationship with Beverly to slip away from his grasp far too many times over the years. He wanted a chance to further discuss where they went from here. If only life afforded him just one more chance. . .

"I think we should ask Lwaxana to join us," she replied reluctantly. He could see the disappointment in her eyes. He was sure he wasn't imagining it!

"That was so thoughtful of you to invite me," Lwaxana Troi said as she and the captain sat down at a table. She wiped at her eyes with a tissue to clear up her mascara, spoiled earlier by tears.

"You shouldn't be alone at a time like this," Picard said. Why was he responding with such a cliche? He struggled for something better to offer and could not come up with anything.

Beverly brought their lunches over on a tray, tossed salads for each of them, a grilled sandwich with replicated meat from a recipe from some exotic planet for the Captain, spaghetti for the doctor, and some fruit and cottage cheese for Lwaxana. Despite the morose atmosphere, Picard found himself grateful that Lwaxana no longer brought the servile Mr. Homn on trips with her. He was on edge enough without having to listen to a gong with the ambassador's every bite.

"I hope everything is to your satisfaction," Beverly said as she sat down.

"It smells wonderful," Picard replied with a wan smile. After they began eating, he looked toward Lwaxana. "Beverly tells me you haven't been to see your granddaughter yet. I know how her accident must remind you of Kestra."

"Ohhhh," was Lwaxana's only verbal reply.

"If you don't go see her," Crusher said, "Would you ever forgive yourself? She needs the people who love her around her."

Lwaxana picked up a piece of fruit to nibble.

"She's a beautiful, sweet little girl, Lwaxana," Beverly continued. "Let her know her grandma loves her."

Dropping her fruit rind, Lwaxana pushed her plate away. "My daughter. . .and my granddaughter are my universe. . .my life. I am crushed. I am. . ." Tears broke up her words. ". . .so very, very afraid."

When Picard and Crusher escorted Lwaxana Troi to the infirmary, Worf and Deanna were no longer there. Probably they had gone to eat or to rest, Beverly decided. And perhaps it was better for Lwaxana to see her granddaughter, for the first time after the accident, uninhibited by the emotions of the girl's parents.

Slowly, Lwaxana walked up to Shannara and placed her hands gently on the clear plastic tubing. The color had fully returned to the girl's face, making her appear as though she were only asleep. Yet Lwaxana could sense differently, for she could not read the words and images that accompanied a normal dream state. She could not read anything at all.

My Littlest One, can you hear me? Lwaxana thought to the child.

Ambassador Troi was known throughout Federation space as one of the most controlled telepaths. If anyone could get through to her granddaughter, she was the one. She waited for a tense, silent moment. Although she still sensed nothing from Shannara, she persisted fervently.

Grandma's here. I'm so sorry I didn't come to see you earlier. I love you, Dear. I don't want you to ever doubt that. Oh please, Baby! Where are you? Please let me know you're still in there. Reach out to me!"

Faintly, but ever so clearly, Lwaxana heard, Gramma! flung at her telepathically. That single word sent tears of joy rolling down her cheeks. She turned toward the captain and the doctor smiling.

"She's in there," she told them as relief rocked her entire body and weakened her knees. "My granddaughter responded to my thoughts!"

"Keep talking to her," Beverly said, stepping closer. She picked up a medical tricorder and scanned her young patient for any elevation in her neural activity.

"Shannara," Lwaxana said aloud. "Honey, keep talking to me. I need to know that you're all right."

Can't see! The girl's voice came stronger this time. Gramma. . .scared!

"I know you're scared, Baby, but you have to hang in there."

"Her brain activity is rising," Crusher confirmed.

"A friend of your mommy's, Dr. Crusher, is here. We're doing everything we can for you. You will come back to us soon and when you do, Grandma's going to buy you the prettiest dress and lots of new toys."

"I'm sorry," Beverly said, lowering the tricorder. "Her brain activity is decreasing again."

"What does that mean?"

"It means," Crusher offered Lwaxana a reassuring smile, "she has slipped back into a deep coma, but she will remain stable as long as she's kept in the stasis tube." The doctor touched Lwaxana lightly on the arm. "You offered her love and hope. I can't think of any better medicine."

"What more can we do now?" Beverly averted her eyes for a moment, uncomfortable with her Human limitations. "We're still waiting for Starfleet Medical's approval of the surgery. Until then, all we can do is more of the same-closely monitor her and by all means continue to visit and talk to her."

"If approval takes too long, will it be too late?"

"Lwaxana, I understand your concern, but as long as the stasis tube remains active, her condition will not deteriorate.

The grandmother nodded. "Thank you for taking the time to coax me through this. I know how much I can be a third wheel."

Beverly glanced back at Picard and they shared a moment of satisfaction.

"Hello Alexander," Dr. Bennett said with a reassuring smile as the boy stepped into his office and sat down. "I'm glad you decided to come see me."

"Yeah, well, I wasn't given much choice," the boy responded. He fixed the counselor with a look of disdain. He didn't believe counseling would help him. It couldn't nurse his sister back to health. Finally after their long, awkward stare was broken, Alexander added, "I don't want to be here."

"Where would you rather be?"

The question startled him, because he didn't immediately have an anser. "Anywhere."

"General answers are not allowed. Where would you rather be?"

Although he didn't answer Bennett's question, he began answering the unspoken one. "I wish I had played with my sister more. I should have paid attention to her when I was supposed to be watching her. I was so damn selfish."

"Everyone is from time to time."

"But I knew what was expected from me! Shannara was left in my care. Now she has to pay for my mistake."

"Would you like to talk about what happened that evening? I hear you invited a friend over."

"Rosa," he admitted. "I met her a couple of months ago when her father transferred to the_Enterprise_."

"And you really like this Rosa?"

"Yeah. She's easy to talk to. We've had a lot of fun in the holodeck, in the arboretum or sharing lunches in the cafeteria. She even makes studying fun." As he spoke of his girlfriend, Alexander found himself longing for the innocence they had shared before the accident. "I can-or could-tell her things my parents just wouldn't understand."

"Because there's a generation gap?" The boy nodded. "Is there anything you would like to say to your parents? Something you haven't been able to say?"

Alexander shrugged, unsure of himself. He used to find it easy to talk with a counselor. When he and his father had had trouble adjusting to his move to the_Enterprise_, Deanna, calm and rational, had been there to see them through the transition. Life had been so simple then in comparison.

There was lots he wanted to say now to Counselor Bennett. He just wasn't completely sure himself what it all was. Maybe in another ten years, he'd have it all sorted out. "They don't want to talk with me anyway. They may never want to again."

"I think, Alexander, that you need to forgive yourself before you can begin to expect anyone else to."

The young Klingon fixed the older man with shock. "Maybe I don't deserve forgiveness. And maybe I don't want it!" He could hardly believe such harsh words had come out of his mouth, and yet he felt better having said them.

"Okay, I can understand that you would feel that way," Bennett replied in a calm even voice. "Your pain is still fresh and your sister's fate is uncertain." Alexander uncomfortably mused over the counselor's verbalization of his feelings. "You still haven't told me much about Rosa. You invited her over and-"

"We only had one thing on our minds. We hadn't talked about it. We talked about everything else. But it was as though we could read each other perfectly, because we both knew when the other was ready to make the commitment.

"You are only fifteen years old. Most boys your age aren't even sure what they want from themselves. Can you tell me what your plans are for your future?"

Alex squirmed in his chair. "I haven't given it much thought. I don't know. I thought I'd stay in school for a while and see what I'm good at. I really don't see what my future has to do with my feelings for Rosa. It just happened! I was thinking about myself, about my needs. And I'd forgotten about Shannara the whole time. When I realized she was missing, I felt so ashamed of what I'd done. When I found Shannara in the water, I was horrified." He leaned forward, covering his face in his hands. "I wish I had been hurt not her. She was such a happy little girl, and I ruined her life!"

"Alexander, I know you think it's impossible to forgive yourself now. I can only tell you that it will take time. I would like to see you again in three days. Would you be willing to participate in a joint counseling with your parents?"

Alexander, taken aback, opened his mouth, but took a moment before verbalizing a reply. "Are you serious? I don't know what I would say to them! They really don't want to talk with me anyway."

"And what caused you to reach that conclusion?"

"Because I did a very evil thing. They have every right to hate me and to not want anything to do with me."

"I see. Do you think you even deserve to talk with me?"

"You asked to see me."

"And why do you suppose I did that?"

"It's your job. You have to."

"I have to see patients who ask to see me, not the other way around. I wanted you to come see me, because I want to help you. What you did may have been evil, as you say, but, Alexander, you are not evil.

A couple minutes later when Alexander stepped out of Counselor Bennett's office, he found Rosa sitting in the waiting area. Their eyes locked. He wanted to say something to her, his partner in crime, but he didn't know how to tell her that he still cared about her. She stood and approached him. He wanted to tell her that he was so sorry for the way he'd treated her since the accident.

After pausing for a long moment, waiting for him to speak and obviously flustered by uncertainty herself, Rosa went on into the counselor's office for her own session. His opportunity gone, Alexander left not sure where he should go.

"Shall we finish the day together?" Picard asked, showing up at the infirmary just as he knew Beverly was getting off duty.

She shut off her monitor and turned toward him. "Only if you're buying dinner," she replied teasingly.

"I think that can be arranged." Picard offered her his arm, and standing, she took it. They left the infirmary together.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight:

Alexander returned to his quarters to find it empty. His parents were probably still in the infirmary. Relieved to not have to face anyone, he did not instruct the computer to raise the lights and attempted to eat a light dinner. He could not even finish a salad for lack of appetite. A few days ago, he had believed his life was perfect. Rosa was perfect. Now he couldn't even talk with the girl whom he could once tell everything.

I have to talk with her, he decided. Just say anything. It's better than this silence between us.

Replicating a red rose, he decided to go to her quarters. She loved flowers and so he hoped the gesture would ease the tension between them.

"Rosa," he said as she greeted him at the door,"may I come in?"

"Are you going to just ignore me like you did before?" she asked coolly.

He did not offer her the flower, but hoped she would notice it. "I'm sorry for that. I was wrong." He hesitated, waiting for her to respond. "Please. . . ." Now he did offer her the flower. Although she took it, she quickly discarded it on a small table. He felt like she was throwing him away.

"You can come in," she said. Alex could not tell whether she was still angry with him or not. "I think we need to talk anyway." As they moved into the room, they both looked at the sofa-and remained standing. Rosa folded her arms across her chest, afraid to open up to the boy she had spent countless hours in chatter over the past three months.

He looked toward her and she met his gaze squarely. Without thinking, they were in each others arms the next minute, Alexander lifting up her shirt to fondle her breasts and Rosa struggling to unfasten his pants. With his pants only half undone and her panties down to her knees, she took him into her. They backed against the wall for support and rocked quickly to and fro, both of them working up a sweat. There was no tenderness in their lovemaking, only pure and painful lust. Out of a strong sense of guilt, both teenagers desired suffering over pleasure.

"Hurt me!" she pleaded. He bit into her shoulder, and she screamed, feeling both pleasure and pain. "I'm such a bad girl. I need you to punish me."

He growled in her ear, which brought sharp memories of the first time he had growled at her. As he was about to cum, Alexander suddenly pulled out of her and pushed her away.

"What the hell are we doing!" he exclaimed. Quickly, he pulled up his pants.

They looked at one another with shock and fear. What had they become? Alexander wondered. Animals that acted on instinct? Did they no longer care what happened to themselves?

"We're punishing ourselves," she told him, "the only way we know how."

"Well, it's wrong! We have to stop this! This isn't talking. This isn't anything!"

"What are you saying?"

"I think I should leave."

Rosa wanted to say something. It was obvious by her startled expression, but as before she could not speak up. Instead, she pulled up her panties and hastily ran into her bedroom.

Alexander left. He did not want to return to his quarters where he knew his parents would eventually show up. Yet as he stepped out into the corridor and studied the options around him, he knew he had no other choice.

Rosa did not know how she was supposed to feel and so she allowed herself to grow numb. She could not stand being cooped up in her quarters after what had happened between her and Alexander, so she left.

She wandered around the promenade level aimlessly going from shop to shop. She browsed through clothing, flowers and a variety of souvenirs without a purpose. She really wasn't looking, but rather going through the motions as a means of busywork. In the past week, she had gone from a carefree teenager who did as she pleased, to the distraught, impetuous young woman she was today. She had been a bit vane before. Now she hated herself.

No matter how quickly she hastened from shop to shop, she could not completely block her thoughts and the image of young Shannara being pulled out of the bath water raced through her mind like a series of snapshots. For fifteen years, Rosa's existence had been one mainly of self-centered interest. It wasn't so much that she disliked other people or that she had deliberately wronged others for her own personal gain. But until she had seen Shannara's bloated purple face, she had not thought much about the welfare of anyone other than herself.

That's why it's my fault Alexander's little sister is dying! She screamed inside her head. It was my idea to invite myself over to his quarters when I knew his parents would be away. I wore the provocative mini skirt, knowing full well what I wanted to happen. Alex was supposed to be watching his little sister. And I didn't care!

She closed her eyes, trying to remember the energetic face of the young girl and could only picture the moment her boyfriend had pulled his little sister out of the water.

Oh god, if she dies, I don't want to live!

Rosa reached the end of the line of shops and came to a balcony that peered over the deck below. As she leaned over the railing, she thought about how far of a drop it was-at least thirty or forty meters, she imagined. One step and she would be walking away from all her pain.

She held her breath. Tears stung her eyes. What am I thinking? She screamed in her head.

Do it! another voice whispered. Five seconds and it would all be over.

Rosa bit her lip. She lifted her right foot to the bottom rail.

Nervously, she glanced around to see if anyone was watching her. The closest person, a woman browsing through dresses on a rack, was more than thirty meters away.

No one can stop me, she realized. If I really want to, no ne could keep me from ending it all right now.

She lifted her other leg. Then her right leg went over the top rail. She released her grip.

And she was falling.

And then she wasn't.

Someone had grabbed her by the back of her shirt. Dangling precariously thirty meters in the air, she wondered frighteningly for a split second if time had slowed way down. Maybe that was the punishment all suicides received-five seconds to fall in reality, but like minutes to the sinner. The sensation made her dizzy, and she looked up to see a handsome man in his mid twenties holding on to her with little effort. He looked like an angel, she decided. And maybe he was. She felt her heart beating faster as she stared into his kind eyes. He pulled her back to safety and said, "I don't think you really wanted to do that."

She wanted to ask him so much. Who was he? Where did he come from? How did he get to her so quickly? Why did he care when she was nothing less than a murderess. Yet stumbling to the floor, she barely managed to utter, "How?"

He did not answer the question. Instead, he smiled knowingly at her. "You will see new hope in the haze," he promised her. "If you just let yourself get past today." And then he turned and walked away from her.

She stared at him until he was out of her sight. She wanted to chase after him, but thought better of it. He would have stayed if it were necessary. With that thought, she suddenly realized that her desire to end her life had subsided. She still felt the guilt, but it no longer consumed her.

Beverly and Picard had finished their dinner, but remained in the restaurant to talk for a while. Most of their conversation centered around fantasy of their running off together, none of which either of them really expected to carry out. Since she was facing the window, the doctor noticed the young man as he walked past. She gasped.

"What is it, Beverly?" the captain asked as he gripped her hand. "Are you feeling all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine," she barely managed. "I'm a little tired, though. Would you mind if you escorted me back to my quarters and we called it a night?"

Disappointment painted his features, but he nodded and like a gentleman walked with her to her quarters.

As Robin turned to input some data, she caught a familiar face among the crowd outside engineering.

"Wesley," she uttered in disbelief. Could it really be him or just someone who looked like him at a glance? She couldn't let him out of her sight without knowing!

"Ensign Lefler," a commanding voice called out to her.

She moaned, silently berating herself for forgetting her duties. All she needed was to be written up for insubordination! She turned around to face Jeckyl's wrath. As frightened as she was, she couldn't suppress the urge to chase after her estranged boyfriend. What was he doing here?

"I have some news I'd like to share with you."

"News?" Inwardly, Robin wondered what she had done wrong now. Yet at the same time she felt a strange relief that he hadn't noticed that she'd almost bolted out of engineering to chase after a man she only thought was Wesley Crusher.

"I have recommended you for a promotion. I know I push a little too hard sometimes but that is because I want to see my crew succeed. Sometimes people are capable of a whole lot more than they realize. I'm always here to nudge you into proving yourself. Well, you've certainly proven yourself with me. Your work on this station has been exemplary."

Robin smiled. She could not believe what she was hearing! After putting up with his complaints almost daily for months, she was now receiving not only his praise, but a recommendation for promotion too. "Thank you, sir. This means a lot to me."

"I'm sure it does," he said with a nod. "Good luck to you."

Turning back around once again with the intention of inputing data, she remembered about Wesley. He was long gone now and she asked herself if she really wanted to see him after all this time? And if she did, what would she say to him?

"It can't be a coincidence," she realized aloud. "He has to be here because his mother's here. Maybe I should go have a talk with her." With that decision made, she anxiously waited out the last hour of her shift.

"You've really seen Wesley?" Dr. Crusher said near tears. Robin had roused her from a semi-conscious state, but the news had quickly awakened her. "Then I'm not hallucinating."

"I thought. . .well, if he's here-"

"That he would have been in touch with me?" Beverly frowned. "Not exactly. I've seen him briefly a few times, in my quarters, on the Huron, just this evening out in the corridor, but he doesn't speak to me. Then he disappears. I thought I was going crazy, but if you've seen him, too-"

"Then he's really here."

They both mused over this for a moment, Robin playing dreamily with her hair. After a moment, she looked the doctor straight in the eyes. "I guess we should now ask ourselves what are we going to do about it? If he's hiding from us, how do we corner him?"

"We can project our thoughts," Beverly said, growing distant. "Did Wesley ever tell you about the time I was caught in a warp bubble?"

"Yes. He said the Traveler helped him rescue you."

"What he may not have told you is how he summoned the Traveler. His thoughts were so concentrated on the need to rescue me that the Traveler picked up on it."

"Are you saying he telepathically picked up on the Traveler?"

"I don't think the Traveler would refer to it in that way. He'd call it something like a total mind transference. Wesley inadvertently sent his thoughts, his mind, into a plane he didn't even know existed."

"And this is the plane the Traveler took him to several years ago?"

"I think so. The Traveler once said that the mind, space and time were all part of the same whole and that Wesley had come closer to realizing that than any Human before him."

"That seems like a fairly easy theory to accept," Robin replied, "but how do we apply it to the real world? How do we reach this plane?"

"I guess the first step is believing. If we concentrate hard enough on our desire to talk with Wesley, maybe he'll do the rest of the work for us."

"I hope I don't offend you, Doctor, but I'm not sure I want to talk with him."

For a moment, Beverly was taken aback until acceptance came. Wesley had led Robin to believe he wanted to marry her only to abruptly leave her without even a goodbye. Robin's hesitation, if not anger, was justified.

"I'm not saying no," Robin clarified. "I just need a day or so to think about it."

Crusher nodded. "I understand." She suddenly felt a strong urge to be alone-and brood. "Contact me when you've made your decision. Now if you don't mind, I'm very tired."

After Robin left, Beverly instructed the computer to dim the lights to twenty-five percent. For a long while, she sat up in bed thinking deeply. Wesley, don't you know I want to see you?

Why had he chosen now to come back? Did he know about Shannara Rozhenko's injury? And if he did, had the Traveler given him the power to perform miracles?

"Wesley, if you have the ability to save a dying girl's life, please, please come to me now. Don't let her or her parents suffer any longer." Silently, she added, Don't let me suffer.

She waited several more minutes before crawling under her covers and smacking her pillow with a fist in frustration. For the first twenty-three years of her son's life, Beverly felt they had had a close, healthy relationship. Now he was little more than a stranger.

That night as Rosa lay in her guest's bed, reflecting over her attempted suicide, she could not get one thought out of her head. I had let go. I was falling.

And that man had been no where nearby.

I had let go!


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine:

"Martha, it's so good to see you," Beverly said as she greeted the stargazer's first officer at her door. With caring for Shannara Rozhenko, she had forgotten about her agreement to meet with the other woman. As the commander paged her to remind her, Beverly knew that a diversion was exactly what she needed.

Martha Lasalle stepped inside and the two women went to the sofa. "I hope this isn't a bad time," Martha said. She ran a hand through her auburn hair and shifted as though the cushion was lumpy.

Beverly struggled for something to say, anything to put her friend's mind at ease. It used to be so easy for them to chat. Would either of them ever leave regeneration behind completely?

"I know how busy you are with your coma patient," Martha continued.

"Actually, about all any of us can do right now is wait. I could use the distraction. So tell me how you've been doing. You're still seeing a therapist, aren't you?"

Martha hesitated, and Beverly almost wished she could take the question back. She wondered if she could handle knowing that any of her former crew mates had managed to leave therapy behind. The thought made her feel inadequate, as though she would never shed her vulnerabilities.

"On occasion," Martha finally admitted. "It hasn't been easy. Mostly I've put up a good front. We all want others to believe we're perfectly normal. You know, of course, that the captain returned to duty before anyone else."

"My Mr. Resilient," Beverly said fondly.

"Yes, on the surface it does seem that way. Our captain is a very private man, and if I didn't know how close you are to him, I wouldn't be talking to you about this now."

Beverly felt dread pounding on her chest. If Jean-Luc was having problems, why hadn't he shared them with her? "You're with him every day on that bridge," Beverly said slowly. "Have you noticed anything that should alarm us?"

"He has confided in me, and I have to tell you that underneath that thick guise of his, our captain is a very frightened man. I don't know if he's told you that he stopped seeing a counselor months ago."

"No, he didn't tell me that," Beverly replied. She wondered how much of his pain he was keeping bottled up inside, and why hadn't he shared any of that with her after they'd been intimate? "Do you think it is wise of him, a captain of starship, to shoulder such pain on his own? I mean, I've been with him for the past couple of days. Even Mr. Resilient has weaknesses. He shouldn't play his own counselor anymore than his own doctor."

"I agree. He may kill me for telling you this, but. . .he's been having nightmares. . .very serious nightmares."

That's why he refused my invitation to spend the night together, Beverly thought.

"Maybe you could help him see reason where I could not."

Beverly started to tell Martha she would try when her annunciator sounded. "Come in," she called out and the captain appeared.

"Martha, what a pleasant surprise to see you here," he said. He didn't look like a man who was suffering from nightmares, but Picard had always been good at covering his pain.

Beverly stood to face him squarely. "Jean-Luc, why didn't you tell me you were no longer seeing a therapist?"

"Well. . . " he faltered.

"Perhaps, I should go," Martha said and made a hasty retreat.

Picard tugged at his shirt out of habit although he was in a two-piece civilian outfit. He sighed and averting his eyes to Beverly's chest, said, "I'm really quite capable of functioning in the capacity of a ship's captain."

"Are you as good at being a lover?"

"Just because you're not ready to return to life aboard a starship doesn't mean I cannot handle it!"

"Even despite your nightmares?"

"I wish Martha would keep her big mouth shut. Yes, there have been a few nightmares, but I am managing just fine despite them."

"Are you lying to me, Jean-Luc? To yourself?"

He sighed heavily. "No, they do not effect my performance as the Stargazer's captain."

"That is not a complete answer-and you know it!"

"I'm fine, Beverly. And yes, that means I'm prepared to handle the full responsibility of being your lover as well."

"I'm sorry. That was uncalled for." Beverly practically collapsed on her sofa. He joined her and for a long moment, they sat holding hands until she turned toward him. "Can you answer for me Jean-Luc, did your counselor tell you that you were ready to give up therapy or did you decide that on your own?"

"She advised that I continue biweekly sessions although I had progressed to a point where Starfleet no longer saw the need to require my continued therapy."

"Then they're fools!" She wrapped her arms around his waist. "Jean-Luc, Please take care of yourself if not for you then for me."

"How can I convince you that I'm perfectly fine?"

"I want you to share everything with me whether you think it's important or not." She offered him a dubious smile. "But you know I'll always worry about you. The farther away you are, the more I'll worry."

He brought his forehead down to hers, sighing. He kissed her as only a lover would, running his hands across her body. "I shall always worry about you, too, love."

She nodded toward her private room. "You want to serve me breakfast in bed?"

When Beverly returned to the infirmary, she learned that she had a message from Starfleet Medical. She was anxious to hear it but first she had to check on Shannara. The little girl's vital signs had dropped slightly, though still presenting no immediate danger.

"Hang on, honey," Beverly coaxed as she gently placed her hand on the clear plastic.

Walking over to her console, she brought up the message from Admiral Harrison at Starfleet Medical. "I know you're very anxious," he began, "so I won't keep you in suspense. The medical board has decided unanimously to grant your request."

Beverly's squeal of delight could be heard throughout the infirmary and those who could, stopped what they were doing to find out what had excited their CMO.

"Please keep us updated regularly on Shannara Rozhenko's prognosis," the admiral continued, "as we would like to have any and all data on this case readily available. I personally want to add that we are all deeply concerned for this child and pray for her full recovery. God speed to you! Admiral Harrison out."

The symbol for Starfleet Medical briefly filled her screen before switching back to the UFP symbol.

"Computer, location of Dr. Selar."

"Dr. Selar is in her quarters."

Beverly smiled broadly as she rushed out of the infirmary to deliver the news in person. This news was too good-even if the recipient was a Vulcan.

Several minutes later, both doctors went to explain the procedure, in layman's terms, to the Rozhenkos.

"But she'll still be all right," Deanna pleaded with them. "She'll be our little girl again?"

Worf placed his arm lovingly around his wife to reassure her, although he looked toward Beverly with the same painful expression. "Can you keep her memories in tact?"

"I wish I could tell you that everything will be all better after today," Beverly replied, "but it's going to be a long battle for your family, one requiring a lot of strength and courage."

"This is the most difficult battle for any warrior to face," Worf admitted. "I will see my daughter through this."

"Beverly reached out with both hands and clutched her friends' hands. "I will be here to help you through this. You have each other. You have your mother. Alexander." She noticed Deanna jump a bit at the mention of her stepson. "We will all be here for you."

"Will she remember me?" Deanna asked. "Will she still call me Mommy?"

"There's no way to calculate how much she will remember, if anything," Dr. Selar said.

Even those words delivered by a Vulcan made Deanna gasp in shock.

Beverly quickly added a more sympathetic response. "Shannara is young. The chances of her making a full recovery are far greater than an adult's would be. I don't want you to give up hope. You'll hear your little girl call you Mommy again, promise."

For the first time since she'd arrived on the station, Deanna cracked a smile.

And Beverly hoped she wasn't offering a promise in vain.

When they arrived at the infirmary, Crusher and Selar stood back to allow the family time with Shannara before the girl was prepped for surgery. As she watched them, Beverly prayed it would not be their last family reunion.

"It's time, Baby," Deanna said, running her hand along the plastic tube to symbolically brush her little girl's hair. "Don't be afraid. Mommy and Daddy will be here waiting for you." Clutched in her hand, she lifted the stuffed dog. "I brought some of your toys, including Doggie. I'm sure you'll want to play with them."

Deanna thought back to the day Shannara had received the stuffed dog. It had been the night before her second birthday, and Captain Riker had stopped by after his duty shift. For a time, Shannara had been afraid of the captain and Will was searching for a way to coax her out of her fear.

"Get her a toy for her birthday," Deanna suggested.

So Riker had chosen a toddler-safe toy from the computer banks, wrapped it up, placed a bow on top and went to the Rozhenko quarters. Kneeling down toward the girl's eye level, he offered the gift to her.

Hesitantly, and with a great deal of coaxing, Shannara went to him and snatched the package from his hand. Before the captain could touch her or even talk to her, she rushed for the protection of her father.

Deanna apologized profusely, though her long-time friend insisted that he understood. They then watched as Worf helped Shannara unwrap the present, and marveled at her delight as she smiled and clapped her hands when her father removed the stuffed animal from the wrapping.

"It looks like maybe you found a way to her heart after all, Will," Deanna had said. The two friends had shared a warm smile, and Riker had reached out to give Deanna's hand an affectionate squeeze.

As she thought about that day, Deanna petted the replicated animal as though it were alive, even scratching behind its ear occasionally. She longed to return to a normal life on the _Enterprise_ with the usual anomalies and new encounters, battling to overcome one danger after another. This, waiting for her daughter to live or die, was far more frightening.

Worf brought a hand to his wife's shoulder. They peered into each other's eyes, and although Deanna could normally only sense what Worf was feeling, not what he was thinking, she clearly heard him project we will remain together as a family. With every ounce of telepathy she could muster, she sent back at him, Forever.

For little more than a nanosecond, Worf felt shocked by the unspoken communication. Quickly, it was replaced by pleasure, for he had never shared this type of closeness with his wife. And yet only moments later, he again felt a deep moroseness. His little girl. Their little girl. Would either of them ever feel that closeness again with Shannara?

He thought about the day of Shannara's birth. Unsure how to nurture a newborn, he had been afraid he would not make a good father. Raising Alexander had been difficult enough and the boy had been of school age by the time Worf had to parent him. A baby needed constant attention, feeding, changing, rocking, and to the warrior's surprise, he soon discovered that he rather enjoyed the nurturing part of parenting. He had never felt half as victorious at any Klingon bat'leth tournament as he had when Shannara reached any milestone in her development.

They had plenty more milestones to reach together. "May your battle end victorious," he said in Klingonese.

Without a universal translator, Lwaxana did not understand her son-in-law's words. Yet as she watched him and saw his determination, she thought she understood him. She felt the same way. Shannara was a fighter, their little warrior, and she would triumph over this battle.

Lwaxana thought about the times she had spent with her granddaughter. There were too few of them, she admitted, for her life and that of her daughter's drifted apart by nature. Neither Deanna nor Worf wanted to give up their lives as Starfleet officers and Lwaxana wasn't about to give up hers as an ambassador. Still, she regretted not having time to spend with her granddaughter, developing a stronger bond with the child.

We will have more time together, Littlest One, the Betazoid vowed. I have much to teach you about abilities you're not yet aware that you possess. She knew that Shannara's interaction with the Akodians both before and after birth had somehow prematurely awakened innate psychic abilities in the child. Lwaxana also suspected that although Shannara was only a quarter Betazoid that her abilities would eventually be stronger, more fine tuned than her mother's. Be well, she sent telepathically to the child. Be well and Grandma will be there for you.

From several meters away, Beverly watched the family. Allowing them enough time to prepare for the difficult hours ahead, she prayed this would not be the last time they spent with their daughter.

Her head nurse, Lieutenant Michelle Martin, entered the room. "Are you ready, Dr. Crusher?"

"I believe so," Beverly responded as she turned toward Dr. Selar. The Vulcan doctor had agreed to assist in the delicate surgery. Selar nodded her readiness.

"Let's prepare the patient for surgery," Beverly instructed. She sighed heavily, knowing that preparing the girl would be as precarious as the procedure itself. She approached Shannara's family. "We're going to take Shannara into the surgical room now. I will have to lower the stasis field, but will immediately administer an anesthetic that has also been proven to possess stabilizing qualities."

"How long-? Worf began and seemed unsure of exactly what it was he wanted to ask.

Deanna, obviously picking up on her husband's fears, asked, "This drug isn't as stable as the stasis, is it?"

"No, I'm afraid not, but I cannot perform the surgery while the stasis field is raised. I need your consent to lower the field."

"What kind of life will she have otherwise?" Worf asked rhetorically. He turned toward his wife, who nodded. "You have our permission."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten:

Less than thirty minutes later, Beverly, Dr. Selar, and Beverly's head nurse, Michelle, were inside surgical room one ready to begin the delicate surgery they had outlined.

The genetic mix that made up Shannara Rozhenko was difficult for even a medical doctor to understand. The laws of science predicted that Klingon and Betazoid codes could not be successfully integrated. Klingon anatomy involved a system of redundancies unlike any other known sentient species. Controversially, Betazoids had a far weaker intrastructure, while possessing superior mental abilities. Yet the little girl had defied the odds.

Now it was up to Dr. Beverly Crusher and her staff to overcome the next hurdle. Starfleet Medical had given their approval of the outlined procedure, but Beverly still had to fight off nagging doubts. Although she had no trouble adjusting back to a full- time routine, Beverly could not forestall her fears that her regeneration would somehow effect her performance. She had assisted a few surgeries since returning to duty, but this would be her first as the chief surgeon.

Shannara had been demonstrating some innate empathic abilities which were believed to have been prematurely activated during her interaction with the Akodians. As for any Klingon redundancies, some had been detected while others were impossible to pinpoint- -until they were needed.

No matter how nervous Beverly felt inside, ever the professional, she kept a steady hand as she began the procedure. The trick of the grafting process was locating healthy, unused brain tissue to replace the damaged areas that had been controlling motor and cognitive functions before the accident. No sentient being used more than ten percent of their actual brain capacity, so finding the unused tissue was not the problem. Successfully grafting and encoding the information stored on the damaged sections of the girl's brain would be a medical breakthrough if not an outright miracle. Beverly had every intention of performing that miracle on this special little girl.

"Michelle, prepare 10 ccs of zorcodiezine," Beverly ordered as she checked the girl's vital signs.

Michelle filled a hypospray with the anesthetic. Doctor and nurse locked eyes as their Vulcan colleague lowered the stasis field. Then they were galvanized into action. The nurse handed Crusher the hypospray and the doctor quickly administered it.

"Heart rate and blood pressure lowering," Dr. Selar said. Anxiously, Beverly waited for the drug to take effect. "Heart rate down to thirty-eight." They could not risk it lowering further. Crusher almost gave the order to raise the stasis field when Selar informed her, "Heart rate increasing to 42. . .45. . .stabilizing."

Beverly reached out and brushed the girl's long curly hair with her fingers. Fortunately, modern medicine no longer required the removal of hair before brain surgery.

"Okay Sweetheart, we're ready to begin."

In the adjoining room, Worf and Deanna Rozhenko clutched hands and prayed silently for their little girl. Alexander sat next to them and yet a great distance still hung between them. He could not forgive himself, and his parents could not yet deal with him.

Across from them, Lwaxana and Captain Picard were sitting together. What little they did speak was offered in whispers. None of them really wanted to talk, Alexander was sure.

They knew the surgery would take hours, and yet they stared anxiously at the closed door to the surgery room, waiting for the news.

Alexander both wanted be there and not to be there. He had never been so uncomfortable in all his life. He thought about his sister, the way she had been before the accident, and remembered her smile whenever he went to pick her up out of her crib. Her little hands raised up in the air, she would plead for someone to take her out of her confinement. On several occasions when not answered soon enough to her liking, Shannara had tried to climb out on her own, once even banging her head, resulting in a large purple lump for her troubles. She hated being trapped and Alexander could only imagine how much worse being trapped in a coma made her feel.

He tried to block out these thoughts, to concentrate on something else. So he thought about the one person in his life not Present: Rosa.

He wondered where Rosa was and what she was doing. He had stopped by her quarters earlier to find her not there. He had opted not to ask the computer for her location. Their last encounter having been their animalistic coupling the night before, Alexander feared that he had ruined Rosa's life, too.

Getting up, he wandered away from his parents to afford them some privacy. He thought about what Counselor Bennett had said earlier about forgiving himself. Maybe if Shannara pulled through this, he could. He glanced back at his parents. Deanna had her head in his father's lap and his father was gently running his hand through her hair. Deciding they wouldn't notice his absence, Alexander left the infirmary to find Counselor Bennett.

Not thinking, Alexander walked in to Bennett's office to find the counselor with another patient. "I- -I'm sorry," he stammered, feeling ashamed. "I should have buzzed the annunciator before walking through your waiting area." I'm so incompetent, Alexander thought. I'm just making one blunder after another.

Once Bennett recovered from his startled state, he said, "It's more my fault, really. I forgot to reset the override command on my doors." He turned toward his patient, who was dabbing at tears with a handkerchief. "Will you be all right, Marla?"

"I think so," she responded, getting up from her seat. "My time's up anyway. I'll schedule again for next week." She left the room without looking at Alexander.

"I know you said I could come by any time, but. . ." Alexander began, "are you busy?"

"That was my last patient for the day. And my invitation is still open. What can I do to help you this evening?"

"Starfleet Medical approved my sister's surgery," he said as he took the seat Marla had vacated. "Dr. Crusher and Dr. Selar began the procedure only a little while ago. I was sitting there in the waiting room with my parents, and it was like we were in different sectors of the galaxy. I wanted to comfort them, tell them that everything would be all right. Dr. Crusher is the best doctor I know, but nobody knows for sure that this brain graft is going to work. If she dies, I wouldn't blame them if they didn't want me around anymore. I wouldn't want to live with me." Alexander caught his breath, but it didn't stop the flow of tears.

"Have you been getting any sleep, Alexander?"

"At night, I can hear Deanna crying through the thin walls. I cry, too. How can any of us sleep through all of this?"

"Alexander, may I tell you a story about a little seven-year old boy?" Bennett began. He paused until the boy nodded. When he finished telling the young Klingon the story he had shared with Deanna only two days before, Bennett added, "We all disobey our parents from time to time. You need to accept that fact, so you can learn from your mistake and grow from the experience."

"It's too damn high a price to pay just to learn a lesson! Why does my sister have to pay for my mistake?"

"I agree." They stared glumly at one another. "You should pray for your sister's safe recovery, but you also need to reopen communication with your parents. They are good people, and I think with a little time, they will realize that you are hurting as much as they are."

Somehow, Alexander felt a modicum of comfort from the counselor's words. "I guess I should tell you something that happened between Rosa and I. You see, I went to talk with her and well, we didn't really get around to talking. I didn't mean for it to happen. I just didn't know what to do or say, and I don't think she did either."

"I do understand your problem, but only you can solve it. Until you are able to break the silence barrier, you will probably continue to suffer the same feelings of guilt and inadequacy."

"And Rosa, I imagine she's feeling the same way." Alexander had a mental image of Rosa sitting in the darkness of her quarters, afraid to come out. "I hate thinking about what this is doing to her."

"The fact that you are considering her feelings shows promise. You obviously have a strong desire to resolve this situation."

"Yes! What she and I did was a very bad thing, but she doesn't deserve to be punished forever for it."

"I think if you search deep within yourself, you'll decide that you don't either."

Slowly Alexander nodded, deciding that maybe if his sister pulled through this, he could forgive himself.

"You will have to excuse yourself now, Alexander," Bennett said looking at his chronometer. "I have an appointment scheduled for this time-with my wife. I hope you decide to come tomorrow with your parents, so we can all talk together."

"I will be here," Alexander promised.

"I'm glad you decided to come," Alexander said as Rosa approached his table wearing a sleeveless one- piece mini-skirt.

He had asked her to meet him in the cafeteria, figuring they were safer in a public place. Their eyes locked, both of them trying to gauge how the other was feeling. The eclectic music of the cafe somehow heightened Alexander's fears-and his sexual tension. Why did Rosa always wear such provocative outfits?

"I want to resolve this as badly as you do," she admitted. "And I'm ready to really listen." Sitting down, she reached for his hand. "I can see everything so clearly now. We must stop punishing ourselves."

"I agree. Our guilt has been punishment enough. Nothing we do or say to ourselves will help the situation." He paused. "She's in surgery right now and probably will be for the next couple of hours yet."

"I hear Dr. Crusher is one of the best doctors in Starfleet. She won't give up on your sister."

"We won't give up on my sister."

"Of course not."

An awkward silence between them followed, and Alexander wondered if they weren't relapsing into their earlier routine.

"I don't think we were as ready for a relationship as we thought we were," Rosa said.

"That's for sure. So what do we do now?"

"What I would like is to go back to the way we were before the accident," Rosa replied. "But I think we both probably realize that that is impossible. Too much has happened to quickly, and we must either move forward or back off."

"Which do you prefer?"

"It isn't a matter of what I prefer. We have to decide what is best. The way we are now is not healthy."

"We're talking now. Isn't that the way to begin healing? Can't there be a way for us to grow together? I don't want to say goodbye to you!"

"Alex, two days ago, I was a nervous wreck. I was distraught, practically in a daze. I was so overwhelmed with guilt that I thought it would be better to end my life. I almost went through with it."

I should have realized she was in trouble, Alex internally chastised himself. "What stopped you?"

"I had reached the railing, and I swear to you that I jumped. Someone grabbed me. He came out of nowhere, like my guardian angel. He even seemed to know why I wanted to die. He told me life would get better, and for some reason, I believed him. I still feel guilty over what we did-that will never change- but at the same time, I've come to realize that letting it ruin my life isn't right either. We have to forgive ourselves and move on."

"Our separate ways?"

"I don't know. . .probably."

Bennett met his wife, Paula, and their two children for lunch at the small cafeteria on Deck 7. He tried to act casual, but immediately she noticed he wasn't behaving like his usual self.

"What's wrong?" she inquired.

Realizing he had been staring at his food, he set his fork down on his plate and looked up at his wife. "It's a patient, I'm afraid. I wish I could discuss it with you-with anyone really. I believe in the ethics of confidentiality and normally, it doesn't bother me keeping it all inside."

"But this one's really thrown you for a loop." Understandingly, Paula grasped his hand.

He glanced across the table at his three-year old daughter, who affectionately offered him a french fry. He smiled warmly at her. Tammy wasn't much older than the poor little girl lying in a coma and fighting for her life. His five-year old son, Jamie was sitting beside him, and Bennett wrapped his arm around the boy.

"Being with my family helps."

Why was the surgery taking so long? Not having control of a situation always bothered Worf, but what frightened him even more was the realization that he just wanted this to end. Was he preparing to say goodbye to his daughter? How would Deanna react if she knew what he was thinking? Worse, how was she interpreting the feelings she sensed in him now? To his surprise, she reached out and grasped his hand. He began to wonder what she was thinking, feeling.

As Worf peered into Deanna's glossy brown eyes, he remembered how happy they had been. They had busy work schedules, but they enjoyed their quiet evenings with Shannara. Before Deanna and then Shannara entered his life, Worf had never seen himself as a family man. Even with Alexander around, he had been far too serious, never smiling and always requesting double shifts. While a part of the man he was remained-would always remain-a part of him, he had been compelled to play silly games, like piggyback riding, with Shannara.

He missed the sound of her giggles as he bounced her around the living area of their quarters. He missed teaching her how to do little everyday things like putting on her shirt. Most of all, he missed comforting her when she got a scrape or her feelings were hurt.

"Worf," Deanna said. It was the first word she had uttered in a long while. "You're anxious for this to end." She was not asking, nor accusing. She simply stated what she could sense from him.

"Yes. It is better to know the outcome no matter the situation, then to spend one's time fretting away the hours."

She offered no response. Worse, her eyes grew distant as she contemplated his words. Silently, they continued to wait for Shannara to come out of surgery.

As her nurse wiped Crusher's sweaty brow, the doctor prepared for closure of the incision. While her hands remained steady, inwardly, she felt dread. How could she, a mere mortal, perform this miracle?

The room grew slightly dimmer. Beverly looked upward for the cause of the disturbance. Her nurse favored her with a perturbed look.

"Is anything wrong, Doctor?"

"Did you see?" Beverly asked. "Did either of you see it?"

Selar's only response was a raised eyebrow.

"Doctor, please," the nurse pleaded.

Fortunately, Beverly snapped back to her senses and finished the closure with her laser scalpel. After ensuring that the young patient was stable and then removing her surgical garments, Crusher motioned the other doctor to the far corner. Now that the surgery was finished, Beverly was shaking visibly. She could not let Worf and Deanna see her like this!

"Dr. Selar, could you speak to her parents for me? I need a few minutes to collect myself. I'm sure with your Vulcan composure, you can handle the situation."

"How do you wish me to explain your absence?"

"Tell them. . .tell them. . .Oh surely you can think of something!"

Selar nodded her ascent and went out to the waiting room to talk with the distraught parents. Beverly peered down at Shannara, still deep in a coma. As far as she could, tell the surgery had been successful. Yet it could still be some time before they knew the girl's prognosis.

As she watched over the girl, Beverly had a feeling someone was overlooking them both. "Wesley," she said. "Please, let me know it's you!" She turned full circle, but saw no evidence that substantiated her feeling of being watched. "If you're here now, please help this little girl. Her family loves her and needs her. She deserves to live."

She waited for a long moment, trying to hear a voice in the silence. Taking several deep breaths, she managed to calm down enough to stop shaking. Finally, she braced herself to go talk with Worf and Deanna. After calling her nurse back into the room to monitor Shannara, she left.

As Beverly approached them, Worf said, "Dr. Selar told us that Shannara made it through surgery, but that she may remain in a coma for a considerable time."

"She is stable," Beverly told them. From behind her, Jean-Luc stepped up to them to stand beside Beverly. "I realize it is getting more and more difficult to wait."

"If there's anything I could do. . ." Picard began futilely.

"May we see her?" Lwaxana pleaded. "Maybe if I could get close to her, I could reach her telepathically again."

"Soon. We should wait for the anesthesia to wear off first to make sure she remains stable. Then I would wholeheartedly recommend that you spend time with Shannara. Continue to tell her stories, sing to her, and most importantly, let her know how much you love her and need her to come back."

"She will come back to us," Deanna said with conviction. "She will."

Beverly prayed the family could not see any doubts in her eyes, but locking stares with Deanna, she knew her friend sensed her fears. How exponential the terror must be for the mother. If we survive this day, the doctor thought, let us have the strength to meet tomorrow's challenges.

She turned toward Jean-Luc, her Mr. Resilient, and he offered her a shoulder to lean on. Maybe together, they could survive.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven:

Robin was not surprised to see Dr. Crusher at her door and ushered the older woman inside.

"Robin," Beverly said, "I sense Wesley's presence now more than ever. Why won't he answer me?"

Robin was momentarily taken aback by Beverly's abruptness, but quickly realized that a mother sometimes behaved irrationally where her child was concerned. And Robin suspected the little girl's surgery had zapped the doctor's strength.

"I don't know. I would think a son would want to come home to a mother like you. You're so caring and generous. You've devoted so much of your time to helping others. You deserve something in return."

"Thanks. It doesn't explain anything, but it does make me feel better." She mused over her behavior for a moment. "I'm sorry for barging in on you like this. I should have thought-I should have contacted you first to make sure you were up for a visitor."

"It's okay," Robin said. Actually, she welcomed the intrusion, because her only plans for the evening were to study some reports and go to sleep early. "I understand what you're going through. Why don't we sit down, and we can talk for a while."

She could tell how desperately Beverly needed someone to talk with by the pained expression on the older woman's face. So Robin did not hesitate in walking over to the sofa, offering Beverly no chance of refusal.

After they were seated comfortably, Robin said, "Tell me how Shannara Rozhenko is doing."

"The surgery went well, but that's no guarantee she'll pull through. I've dealt with a lot of tough cases throughout my career, but for some reason, this one has me at wits end more than any other."

"That's because you're so close to her parents."

"You'd think that was the reason. It goes deeper than that though. When I was regenerated, in essence I was brought back to life and yet ever since then, I've always felt like some tiny part of me was left behind."

"And this is your first serious case since you returned to work." Robin thought she understood where Beverly was coming from and probably for the same reason, Beverly was desperate to see her son. A brush with death could change anyone forever.

"Sometimes, I feel so inadequate that I wonder if Starfleet Medical made a good decision in reinstating me. I want to prove them right, but more importantly, I want to see Shannara recover fully. That's why it's vital that Wesley answer me, that he come to me. If I understand the abilities the Traveler gave to Wesley correctly, then am I expecting too much of him to bless a beautiful little girl with health?"

I don't know. Are you saying that you think your son has become godlike?" Robin asked the question laced with sarcasm and yet it gave both of them pause. "Obviously, the Traveler helped Wesley reach a higher plane of existence, but how are we to know there isn't still room for evolution for either of them?"

"I suppose only God knows all, sees all. I just wish Wesley would answer me. I need to know if he's all right. I just need him back in my life! And it frustrates me that he won't answer my call. Do you think maybe, if you call him, he'll answer?"

"Why do you think there's a greater chance he'll answer me? He abandoned me, too, remember."

"Yes, but he came to see me before he left with the Traveler. I spoke with him. I knew what he was planning. You had no idea. One day, you were planning a life together and in the next, he vanished out of your life." Beverly wrinkled her nose in a pleading expression. "I was thinking you could play more on his guilt."

Robin sighed. "He should feel guilty, but not just about leaving me. Okay, I'll do it."

"When will you have the time?"

Studying Beverly, Robin gauged the other woman's desperation. Could Beverly hold herself together if she had to wait? "Now if you like."

"Of course." Beverly reached out for the younger woman's hands. "If we channel our thoughts-think the same thing directed at Wesley, he'll come. He has to."

"What thought should we send him?"

"How about something simple and direct like 'Wesley, we need you'?"

Robin felt a little silly as she closed her eyes, and still holding Beverly's hands, called out to Wesley. She repeated the same words over and over inside her mind. She knew it was a crazy scheme, but what was even crazier was the fact she believed it would work. Was there really something to this mind transference?

Minutes passed and Robin wondered how long Beverly planned to persist before giving up in frustration. She was ready to insist that they quit when a figure shimmered into existence a few meters away. Opening her eyes, Robin peered at a bald man with ridged eyebrows.

"The Traveler, Beverly gasped as she released her grip on Robin and approached their visitor. "Is Wesley with you? Where is Wesley?"

"He is nearby," the Traveler replied with the richest calm Robin had ever heard. "But he is too ashamed. He feels he does not deserve your forgiveness. I feel it is partially my fault that he has stayed away from you for so long. There was much to teach him and there is still much more for him to learn. I have kept him busy with studies, and he has helped so many throughout the universe. As a consequence, he has neglected the two women he loves most. I am afraid that is more my failure than his."

"Please, tell him that I don't care about all that," Beverly said. "All I care about is seeing my son again. I need him! I feel so empty without him."

"Do you wish him to abandon his mission as my protege?" Robin could not tell if the Traveler was upset or even offended. Was he willing to forfeit the time he'd invested in training Wesley? She could not tell, for he simply spoke the words as though generating them randomly.

"I would never ask him to abandon his dreams. If I did, he would begin to resent me. I'm not asking him to change for me. I'd just like to see him every now and then."

The Traveler turned toward Robin. "And you, Robin Lefler." She was only momentarily surprised to hear him call her by name. Of course, he knew who she was. Undoubtedly, Wesley had shared much about her with his mentor. "How do you feel about seeing Wesley again?"

"For a long time, I was very angry at him. I didn't care if I ever saw or heard from him again," she answered honestly. "Now, I'm not really sure how I feel. I don't know how I'll react if and when I see him. I just know that his mother is a very special lady, and she deserves to be reunited with her son."

"You are generous with your personal sacrifice. But you must consider what you want. Do not overlook your own needs."

"Believe me," Robin said looking her visitor straight in the eyes, "that question is uppermost on my mind. I'm still not sure what I want. If Wesley was to end his travels and ask me to renew our relationship, I don't know how I'd react."

"Please!" Beverly interjected. "Robin, I understand how and why you feel as you do, but I know what I want. I ache to see him." She turned back toward the Traveler. "Tell him that I don't care about the past. I just want to see him and start over."

"I will," the Traveler said, bowing slightly. "I must go now, but I will speak with Wesley and try to convince him of his responsibility to you."

"Thank you," Beverly said as the Traveler started to wink out of their plane of existence. She turned toward Robin. "And thank you for being so unselfish."

Robin grasped the older woman's hand. "You're certainly welcome. You deserve happiness, and I wish you the best of luck with your son."

Beverly hugged the girl and as she pulled away, said, "I should leave now. I've imposed on you long enough."

"Take care of yourself."

"Only if you do the same."

After offering Beverly a nod, Robin led the doctor to the door where they said a final goodbye.

When she returned to the infirmary, Beverly conferred with Michelle and studied Shannara's vitals for even the slightest sign of any change in the girl's condition. The little girl had not shown any complications from the surgery, but neither was she showing any sign of waking up.

Beverly began writing a report for Starfleet Medical using her data padd, while she maintained a vigil over the girl. The anesthesia was wearing off and Worf and Deanna could see their daughter again soon. We'll wait another hour, she decided. They need time to collect themselves. They're certainly going to draw on reserved strength over the next several days.

Her computer console beeped, indicating an incoming call, and Beverly set down her padd to answer it. She had sent a subspace transmission to the_Enterprise_ before going into surgery and hoped this was now Captain Riker answering. She wasn't disappointed.

"Beverly, it was good to hear from you," Will said. I hope anyway. How is Shannara doing?"

"She made it through the surgery okay. Now we can only wait and pray she comes out of the coma."

"How are you doing otherwise?"

"I'm getting better. . .Jean-Luc is here."

"Really?" Riker had a smirk on his face. "I presume our old captain is getting along well."

Now that brought a smirk to Beverly's face. "He's not so old," she said cryptically, but Riker picked up on the innuendo.

"Don't you think it's about time you two just admitted what everyone else has known for years and get yourselves married?"

"I wish it were that simple, but Jean-Luc is a starship captain, and for now at least, I don't think I could handle any traveling. I don't think either of us is ready to compromise our positions."

"You're both a couple of rocks!"

"I don't see any ring on your finger."

"I think I'll leave you alone-for now," Riker backed down. "You will notify me if there's any change in Shannara's condition."

"Of course."

After being disconnected from the _Enterprise_, Beverly returned to her data padd. She tried to finish her report, but her thoughts kept drifting to imaginings of what the Traveler might be saying to Wesley. Was he encouraging Wesley to visit with his mother? Or did the mentor feel threatened by the prospect?

Beverly did not realize she had fallen asleep until she was awaken by a sudden and drastic change in her equilibrium. She didn't remember setting down the data padd or dropping it, but it was no longer in her hand. Opening her eyes, she discovered she was no longer in the infirmary!

"Wesley," she called out, her son's name almost sticking in her throat. "Are you doing this?"

A figure stepped forward, and Beverly strained to see his face. "Mom," Wesley said. "I hope you don't mind meeting me here."

"Mind?" Beverly stared incredulously at her son. "Where are we?"

"A plane between your reality and mine."

"Oh Wesley. . ." Hesitantly, she held her arms out to him, unsure whether she could touch him or not. "How are you, son?"

His tears said more than words as he stepped forward and embraced his mother fiercely. They both cried with joy on each other's shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Mom," he said. "I should have been there for you when the Akodians brought you back. At the time, though, I thought I had good reasons for keeping my distance. I was in the middle of a major transition, and I thought I wasn't in a position to help you through your turmoil."

"Just having you beside me would have been enough.'

"I realize that now."

"Wesley, you're my son. I can forgive almost anything of you. Just, please, please, promise me you'll keep in touch from now on."

He nodded slowly. "I will be a better son."

"Just be the son you used to be."

He pulled away from her, turning his back. "You can't expect me to regress to that young, inexperienced boy. If you want him and only him, the man I've become may disappoint you."

"Nonsense. You are my son, Wes, and no matter what else happens between us, I love you unconditionally."

"I believe you, Mom. I just hope you aren't expecting anything I'm not prepared to offer."

"Wesley," Beverly said. She smiled nervously at him. "Is it too much for a mother to ask her son to visit her every once in a while?"

"No, but you must be honest with me-and with yourself. I know that you are about to ask me for something greater than just a visit every now and then. You're worried about someone, and that's understandable."

"Not just someone; Worf and Deanna's little girl! You knew them. You worked for them during your stay on the _Enterprise_. Certainly, you have some sympathy for them. I've done all I can for her. I need to know if your capable of doing more for her. Can you cure her?" She waited for his answer. Was he actually refusing to save a two-year old, someone who had not yet truly experienced life? "Wesley. . ."

"I want you to see something," he said, holding his hand out to her. As she took it into hers, she felt a strange sensation wash over her entire being. They shifted from plane to plane until the infirmary shimmered into view.

Beverly was momentarily shocked to find herself hovering above Worf, Deanna and Lwaxana, who were all peering at Shannara. How long had she been away? Beverly wondered. Dr. Selar must have given the family clearance to stay with the girl. Beverly called out to them, but they did not hear her. She imagined herself as a ghost spying on the living, and the parallel to the time before her regeneration made her shiver.

"We're in a plane halfway in between your reality and a reality you haven't yet begun to understand. You can observe them from here without disturbing them."

Beverly couldn't believe her own son was suggesting such a thing! Had he been spying on her? "Isn't that invading their privacy?" she demanded of him.

"There is much you don't yet understand about time, space, or the universal thought process. We must know other's thoughts fully before we can begin to attune with them."

"Are you saying that without Shannara's thoughts, you can't cure her?"

"I'm saying that without thoughts, nothing is possible."

As Beverly mused over her son's words, they listened as Lwaxana sang a Betazed greeting song to her granddaughter. "Wake up my little sweet, for every day brings a new ray of sunshine. . ." The beautiful lyrics brought tears to everyone's eyes.

Beverly turned back toward her son to see tears in his eyes as well.

"Tell me, Wes, if you have the ability to save her!" Beverly begged.

"I am sorry, Mom, but I cannot use my abilities to save Shannara any more than Commander Riker could use his powers of the Q to save a life. Why do you think it is right for me to revive her now, if it was so wrong for Riker back then?"

"I never told anyone, but I did not agree with the Captain's decision not to help that girl. I wouldn't be here now myself if the Akodians lived by such a philosophy! Dammit! I'm a doctor. I'm supposed to want to see lives saved." She turned back to the Rozhenkos and added with determination, "that girl was already dead. Shannara is still alive. But she may not be for long if you don't act quickly."

When she again looked away from her patient's family, she discovered that Wesley was no longer there. Had she alienated him from her forever? "Damn my morals!" she uttered. No, she decided. I have to stand up for what I believe in no matter the cost. Shannara Rozhenko deserves to live!

Beverly felt the now-familiar tug of her body being moved from plane to plane. When she stopped moving, she realized she was laying in her bed wearing her nightgown and that it was almost six hundred hours. Had her body been asleep while her mind traveled?

Upon leaving his mother abruptly, Wesley went to the Traveler and asked his mentor for advice.

"You must do what is in your heart," the Traveler replied. "Do not bless the little girl with renewed life because you feel sorry for her family. Do it because it's-"

"-the right thing to do," Wesley chimed in. "How will I know that saving Shannara Rozhenko is the right thing? I mean, how am I supposed to know every intricate detail of God's master plan for the universe?"

"You must search deep within yourself and without. Let your mind and the universe become one. It should all be elementary to you by now, my son. Do not allow this case to cloud your judgment simply because you know those involved. Free your mind and your body and the answers you need will come to you."

Wesley sighed, feeling more Human than he had in a long time. "There's someone I'd like to see while I'm thinking about this," he said. "Is that all right?"

"You wish to see Robin Lefler, the young lady you were once engaged to marry. That is understandable. I would advice that you be gentle. Don't expect too much from her."

Hadn't he just admonished his mother in the same way? "I'm not sure I expect anything."

"Above all else, be honest with yourself."

Wesley nodded musedly. The Traveler always spoke in deep truths, challenging Wesley to peel away the layers of each statement before he could fully understand everything his mentor advised him. "I owe her an apology-as if that could ever be enough."

"May light speed go with you, my friend," the Traveler said. It was his way of wishing Wesley luck.

"Thank you."

Wesley popped out of that plane and reappeared on Starbase 217 only meters from Robin's quarters. Once, he had found it easy to speak with her. Now he didn't know where to begin.

With the first step, he realized and headed toward her door. He pressed her annunciator and when she answered, they stared, dumbfounded, at one another for a long moment. Wesley swore that he could almost sense that special connection that had sparked their friendship.

Without a word, she stepped aside to let him enter.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve:

"Don't expect me to be happy to see you," Robin said once the door had closed behind them. She had only awoken a few minutes ago and was still in her nightgown and quite hungry. Almost unconsciously, she silently repeated Law 104: 'Never give in to the opposition.' "I only helped call you here for your mother's sake. She needs you. She's needed you for a long time! Maybe I once needed you, too, but that was a long time ago."

"I realize that abandoning you was wrong," Wesley said. Robin grunted. Did he really think she was going to accept his apology four years too late? "Even back then, I realized it. I don't expect you to understand my side, but it was just something I had to do. I felt as though I wasn't accomplishing anything with my old life. I excelled at the Academy. I had an almost innate grasp of physics and engineering. It just wasn't enough. I wanted so much more."

"And of course, I could never fulfill that desire, right?" Robin snapped. Her temperature flaring, Robin coaxed herself to maintain a level tone. "You're so special that a little Human girl like me would be a bug crawling under your skin." Her words sent shivers up her arms, but what effect were they having on Wesley?

"No, I never thought anything like that. If I ever gave you that impression, it was unintentional." Did she sense contrition in his delivery? "You're a very bright woman, and there was many a time I'd wish you were still a part of my life."

"But not every day, right?"

"I know how much this hurts you to hear. I believe I made the right decision for me."

The sting deepened as Robin fought against tears and lost. How could he be so thoughtless? "Why didn't you at least talk to me? Let me know what was going on inside your head! I loved you. I trusted you, and I thought you knew that."

"It all happened so very quickly. I was unhappy and confused. I couldn't understand why. I was at the top of my class at the Academy. I was engaged to a beautiful, intelligent woman. Most guys would have been overjoyed by the prospect. Yet for some reason, I was discontent. It wasn't your fault. I don't even think it was my fault. The Traveler sensed my turmoil and came to me. He showed me a way out of my depression. I could see everything so clearly under his guidance."

"And you didn't see me in that picture?"

"I'm afraid not."

"Well, at least you're honest." She turned to leave the room, only for him to grab her by the arm. "Unless you're going to tell me you are here to stay, I don't think we have anything further to talk about."

He released her arm. "I still love you."

"We both know that isn't enough."

"Then why are you talking to me?" he countered.

She slapped him resoundingly across the cheek, leaving a handprint. He brought a hand gingerly to the bruise. "I wanted a lot more than that!" To his surprise, she grabbed him and with equal fervor planted him with a kiss.

In the next moment, they were clawing each other's clothing off. They had never been intimate, the majority of their relationship having been through subspace communications and that only serviced their hunger for each other all the more. When they were fully naked, Robin released her hold on him and stepped back. At first, Wesley suspected she was having second thoughts, but she didn't fetch up her nightgown. Then he realized she was admiring his body!

"Somehow, I expected you to be different, Superman," she said with a smirk.

"I'm still Human," he said. "No matter what I learn from the Traveler, or how I grow internally, that will always remain true."

She held out her hand to him, and accepting it, Wesley allowed her to lead him into her bedroom. They climbed into bed.

"Do you still want me?"

"More than ever!"

Pressing his lips firmly to hers, he began exploring every crevice of her body with his hands. She moaned with pleasure as she rubbed her thighs along his legs and buttocks.

"Oh Wesley," she breathed into his ear. "See. . .feel what you've been missing all these years?" She grasped his member and squeezed. He grew harder against the gentle coaxing of her palm.

"The Traveler could never teach you some of the things I'd like to teach you."

Intermittently kissing her on the neck and downward to her breasts, abdomen, and thighs, Wesley replied, "I prefer to learn by the hands-on method."

"Ohhh. . . .that's perfect, because it's the only way I teach. Shall we begin lesson number one?"

Robin eased his member into her already-moist mound between her legs, and wrapping her calves around his buttocks, rocked to and fro. He nibbled on her ear, panting and moaning. She was so beautiful, so soft and gentle. . . .so feminine. Why had he not realized, while wandering from plane to plane with the Traveler, the physical pleasures he had passed up to satisfy his desires of the mind?

Panting, sweating and clawing, Wesley came minutes later, his wave of ecstasy sending him in and out of this plane of existence. He was uncertain whether Robin was conscious of the shifting, though she traveled with him in her own bought of ecstasy.

Satiated, they pulled apart, fully ensconced in their native plane of reality, and spent a moment catching their breaths. Robin wiped at her sweaty face and body with little effect.

"You really are special!" she exclaimed as she rolled onto her side.

"Don't sell yourself short," he replied, bringing his hand to her chin. "You're a living angel."

She blushed. Not many people had offered her much by way of compliments over the years, and she felt awkward accepting one now. Geez Robin, you just made love with the man! She scolded herself.

"Am I embarrassing you?" he asked with a smirk.

"A little-but I like being appreciated."

"So. . .what shall we do now?"

She rolled on top of him, smiling like a hungry lioness. "Why we begin lesson two, of course."

Blackness. Nothingness. It engulfed her. She swam in its ocean. Purposely, she navigated herself further from shore. She did not want to return to what was before. If only she could fall asleep to never awaken, but sleep eluded her as it had for several days.

"Deanna!"

The deep voice resonated through the dark vacuum she had created, penetrating the void. Her eyes fluttered open and the light rushed in. Her husband, sitting on the edge of the bed, came quickly into focus. "What is it? Have you brought news? Will our baby be all right?"

"I'm afraid there's no change."

"Ohhhh. . . .I can't do this anymore. I can't feel." She brought her hands to her face, covering her eyes. "I can't feel."

Worf gently pried her hands away from her face, affectionately massaging them in his own. There was no animation in her eyes or face, and the Klingon braced himself for what he had to do.

"Deanna, you must stop this! You have to accept the fact that Shannara will live or will die. Beverly will do everything within her power to return our daughter to us. You have not been eating or sleeping well. If you do not keep up your own strength, how do you expect to help our daughter get well?"

Deanna shook her head slowly, still staring into Worf's eyes with a frightening lack of emotion. "You still don't under-understand," she replied tonelessly, her voice hitching mid-word. "It is not Alexander's fault that our daughter is-was harmed. He did not-did not-"

Her voice got softer and softer, and finally trailed off into nothingness. Her gaze dropped as well, finally focusing on a spot on the floor, and the Klingon could feel her pulling away from him again.

"Deanna, you made a mistake," Worf said, reaching out and lifting her chin so that her eyes met his. "You were excited and in a hurry, and you forgot to drain the tub. You forgot, that is all. You did not plan on what happened, and while I understand that you feel guilty about it, you must not continue this way." He leaned forward until his eyes were only centimeters from hers, holding her face in his huge hands.

"I could not stand to lose you both," the Klingon finished, trying to force her to understand him.

"But I-I am guilty of this, my daughter, my-"

Worf's sensitive ears barely caught the last word, "sister," but he shook his head. There was a way he might reach her, he knew, and if she were Klingon he'd have resorted to it long ago. But to do it to Deanna-

"You are guilty, then, you say. Do you desire to be punished for your guilt?" he asked, steeling himself.

That question brought the first spark he'd seen in days into her eyes. "Punished?" she asked, mulling over the idea. "Punished-" Worf waited patiently, wondering if he could really carry the offer through. Yes, he thought, he knew he could do it-what really worried him was what would happen between them afterward.

Deanna sat forward, her hands coming up to clasp over his. "Yes," she breathed, nodding firmly. "I do need to be punished. It was-it was my fault!"

Worf nodded and clasping her upper arm pulled her on top of his lap. He lifted her nightgown to expose her bear bottom. Now," the Klingon roared, "you are getting what you deserve for endangering our daughter. This will make you be more careful in the future, and more observant as well."

The blows came hard and fast, raining down on the Betazoid's reddened ass without respite. Deanna's wails turned into helpless sobs, and in moments the tears were streaming down her cheeks like tidal waves coming back to shore.

The more it hurt her, and the more she cried, the better she felt. It was as if by accepting the pain she was accepting her guilt, and Worf's words were reinforcing the experience for her. Deanna was amazed at the result, one corner of her mind marveling at how a spanking could be so painful and so-so freeing at the same time!

Worf could feel the change in Deanna, felt the tenseness ooze out of her. She was crying, and he regretted having had to do this, but at least she was showing some life now, not like the last several days. His strokes became slowly less forceful as he wondered how Deanna would react now, hoping she'd understand what he'd had to do.

Indeed, he mused as the blows became almost caressing, if it were a Klingon female over his lap right now, she would be primed for a most enjoyable interlude. Worf rested his hand on Deanna's ass, feeling the heat glowing from her abused bottom and the shuddering sobs wracking her frame.

"Deanna?" he asked, dreading the answer he was afraid he would receive. His love turned her tear-streaked face up to his, and she responded to the removal of his pinning hand by scrambling up into his lap and wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Oh, Worf, I didn't mean to do it!" she sobbed, pressing her face into his corded neck. "I'm so sorry, so sorry-"

"Hush, love, hush, it's over now," he assured her, stroking her gently as she writhed on his lap in a vain attempt to get comfortable. He could feel the heat of her chastised ass on his thighs now, and could feel something else as well. His Klingon instincts coming to the fore, he ruefully accepted, and ignored the swelling as best he could.

Deanna could feel it as well though, and she sighed and twisted around again, coming to rest with her knees on either side of his hips. She gasped as she rubbed up and down on his erection, the pain in her ass transmuting into an unusual pleasure radiating throughout her body. "Oh, Worf, it's been so long!" she gasped, her body moving over his as she hugged him tight and pushed him backward onto the bed.

The Klingon went willingly, holding onto her as tightly as he could allow himself. His instincts were trying to cause him to throw her across the bed and ravish her unmercifully, and he fought them as she sweetly tormented him with her voluptuous body.

Then she raised up just enough, and when she came back down he gasped in delight! She was on him fully now, hot and wet inside as she shuddered in reaction on his broad chest. He felt moisture again, and lifted her head to see new tears on her soft cheeks.

"Ohhhhh, Worf, love, thank you," she sobbed, her hips working back and forth as she pulled his face down to hers and kissed him madly, all over his contorted face. "I was so close to being lost. . ."

Worf smiled in relief and listened to her groan with delight as she wriggled erotically on his body, her full breasts rubbing on his broad chest. The Betazed was enjoying herself completely now, riding on her love and moment by moment increasing the pace. Her voice was muffled by his lips as they sealed over hers, and he clutched her to him as if he was afraid to let her go. The Klingon was near to tears himself, grateful to all the myriad gods of the universe that Deanna was herself again, and that his desperate ploy had succeeded.

They hugged each other in near-desperation, Deanna shuddering again and again on his muscular frame as she accepted both her part of the blame for Shannara's plight and Worf's love for her. She'd been unable to face herself before, and finally realized what she'd been doing to both Worf and Alexander these past few days.

She pulled back just a bit from his lips and stared down into his eyes, sighing at the feelings she saw mirrored there. "How did you know that would work, Worf?" she asked, stroking his cheek with one soft hand.

"I-did not," the Klingon admitted, staring into her gaze. "I hoped, but I did not know for certain. With a Klingon woman it would almost certainly have worked, but with you. . ."

"It was exactly what I needed."

"I love you," he grated passionately as he felt himself close to coming, "more than life, Deanna."

She nodded, her eyes threatening to overflow again. "And I you, precious love. Precious, daring love." She kissed him hard, a challenging rival to any Klingon woman. They came together moments later, both howling out with pleasure.

Robin lay in Wesley's arms, enjoying the feel of his strong arms around her waist. In the aftermath of their lovemaking, she contemplated whether or not she had forgiven him fully. She loved him. There was no denying that. But was she willing to spend the rest of her life with him if he'd have her?

"I can't stay here much longer," he said almost as though reading her thoughts. "I no longer belong in this universe."

Robin turned toward him and peering into his eyes, knew that she could never force him to remain. He would end up resenting her, or worse-hating her. If she truly loved him, didn't she only have one choice?

"I'm up for promotion," she told him. Why was she evading the issue? Almost instantly, she knew the direction she was heading in. "I've dreamed about it for a long time. It's all I've been working toward since you left me."

"You don't seem too happy about it. I suppose that's my fault. I shouldn't have brought up my leaving so soon."

"No, it's okay. You made me realize something. I want you! I want you more than some silly promotion."

Wesley reached out to play with her hair. "I wish it could be, Robin. But we both know how miserable I was that last year before I left with the Traveler?"

"No, you're not following what I'm suggesting to you. Don't you understand? You're supposed to be some Wunderkind for goodness sake! You don't have to stay here. Take me with you!"

"Take you with me! You can't be serious. Do you have any idea what it is like out there?"

"There's only one way to find out. You can be my teacher-and my lover."

"No. It would never work. The Traveler would never agree to such a thing. I've been more than enough of a burden for him."

"I would never allow myself to become a burden. I could stand by patiently while you two conducted whatever business."

"I believe you're sincere, but you just don't understand what traveling from plane to plane entails. Mind and matter become one. You would never be able to travel across planes without assistance."

"Why are you so sure of that? You once relied on my help to solve a mind game. Would you have won the battle against the Ktarians without me? Hmm?"

"The Traveler would never go for it," he reiterated.

With a huff, Robin got out of bed and pulled a uniform out of her closet. "I think you should leave then." She dressed with her back toward the bed. When she turned around, she discovered he had not left. "I heard you don't need to use a door to leave," she said coolly.

He sat up and looked at her apologetically. "I guess I'm just not as perfect as you want me to be. But maybe with the Traveler's help, I can manage a compromise." Before she could respond, he winked out of her existence.

Curious, Robin sat down on the bed and ran her hand along the spot where Wesley had been. What sort of compromise did he have in mind? It scared Robin to realize she would probably do anything for Wesley.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen:

The Rozhenkos arrived at Counselor Bennett's office a few minutes after nine. Noticing that the boy lingered behind his parents, Bennett decided to address Alexander first.

"Alexander, I'm pleased that you agreed to join us this morning. How are you feeling?"

His parents parted to permit the boy passage. "Very numb, sir," Alexander answered honestly. "But I really want to do this." He turned back to look at his parents. "I'm really sorry," he said to them, nearly choking on his words.

"Please, everyone, have a seat," the counselor said. After they were as comfortable as possible, the counselor continued. "I believe Deanna would like to speak next. Do you have something you wish to share with Alexander?"

She hesitated before slowly nodding. She reached out to squeeze her stepson's hand. "I share your blame, Sweetheart. I forgot to drain the tub, and that is why my baby drowned."

"But I'm the one who forgot to watch her! I'm the one who's most negligent."

"Alexander," his father said, "it is obvious how contrite you are. And Deanna-" He looked at his wife. "We must forgive ourselves and forgive each other." ***** "You said that I should search deep within myself," Wesley reiterated. He and the Traveler were once again in a plane in between two realities. They were watching the family session, though they chose not to listen to the private conversation. "During the past couple of days, I've had a good taste of my old reality. I've seen my mother, been intimate with my old girlfriend, and-" He turned toward the Rozhenkos and watched as Worf and Deanna hugged one another. "I've seen Shannara Rozhenko."

"Yes, the Traveler said knowingly. "The daughter of your friends."

"You asked me not to save her life because I feel sorry for her or because I know her family. I've looked deep within myself, and I saw a man, who selfishly avoided his mother for years and abandoned his fianc‚ because he was too confused to face her. I look at this man, and I think, 'Who am I to judge?'"

"Your biggest fault, Wesley, lies in overanalyzing the situation," his mentor said and winked out.

Wesley puzzled over this for a moment, while watching Worf's son. Alexander was now the same age Wesley had ben when he first boarded the _Enterprise_. He had first met the Traveler then and was granted his first window of opportunity when Captain Picard made him acting ensign. Such a simple Human standing had made him so proud back then. So why now, when he had been granted superior abilities by the Traveler, did he feel none of that pride?

He watched as Alexander stood along with his parents and the Rozhenkos shared a group hug. Wesley envied their togetherness. What did he have? The Traveler? His mind explorations? His traveling from plane to plane? What good was having the universe if one had no one to share it with?

As the Rozhenkos walked out of Counselor Bennett's office, Wesley winked out of his chosen plane and into the reality of the infirmary.

"Wesley!" his mother exclaimed as she approached him with a smile. "You are a miracle worker." She hugged him fiercely. "How did you-no, I don't want to know."

"But Mom-"

She grasped his hand. "Come see your handiwork." She led him over to the little girl's biobed. Shannara Rozhenko turned her head in his direction, smiled, and said, "Hi!"

He beamed down at her, echoing her greeting before turning back toward his mother."Mom, I'm overjoyed that she came out of her coma, but I'm not the one responsible."

Beverly stared at her son dubiously. "If it's the surgery, then-" She looked back at the girl. "- there's a chance she won't recover all of her memories. Wesley, please, is there anyway you can guarantee her memories are in tact? Her parents will arrive any moment. If she doesn't recognize them-"

Before she could finish, she realized that the door had swooshed open to admit the Rozhenkos and Lwaxana Troi.

"We will create new memories," Worf said bravely.

Wesley stepped out of the way and quickly, Shannara's family came to her side.

"Hello, Sunshine," Deanna said, laying a hand gently on her daughter's chest. "I know you don't understand what is going on, but you're going to be all right. Mommy and Daddy are here" she lifted the toy clutched in her hand. "And so is your doggie." She set the stuffed animal beside her little girl.

"I'm really sorry," Alexander offered. "I should have been watching you. I should have been playing with you. I'm so sorry you were hurt!"

Shannara's eyes darted back and forth among the people in the room. She appeared almost in tears.

"Does she recognize us?" Worf asked of his empathic wife.

They watched as Shannara reached out for her toy and began petting it.

"Oh yes!" Deanna replied, shaking with tears of joy.

None of them noticed as Wesley winked out of their existence.

A while later after Shannara's family had had the chance to reassure their little girl that they weren't leaving, Worf and Deanna had a private conference with Beverly.

"She's out of danger," the doctor said, relieving them of their first concern. "However, we still have physical therapy to help Shannara continue her recovery."

"She will make a full recovery?" Worf asked. Undoubtedly, he was thinking about his own physical therapy some years ago. "She will walk properly? Will she be able to think and reason as a normal child?"

"It will take a while, but over time, yes, Shannara will make a complete recovery."

"Her mind is so strong already," Deanna reassured her husband. "I can feel her again. It's so wonderful!"

"We will have to begin with some general exercises during the first couple of days," Beverly explained. "It won't take long, though, before she'll be walking again. Two weeks tops, and she'll be out of the infirmary and ready to go home."

"Home," Deanna said. "I like the sound of that." *****

The morning after Shannara awoke from her coma, Rosa Cassadaga returned to the promenade. She felt she had to return to the spot where she had attempted suicide-or she feared the memory would forever haunt her. Approaching the railing, she peered over the balcony and watched the people below. They were oblivious to her recent plight, going about their routines.

"The little girl is healing, and you obviously have learned from your mistake."

Rosa turned in the direction of the voice and saw the man who had rescued her from an untimely death. "But what happens to Alex and I?" she asked. She still didn't know who he was, but somehow sensed he knew everything about her. How much did he know about the universe? "Would it be healthy for us to continue seeing each other?"

"It is not up to me to decide the answer. However, the fact you are considering such a question is a good indication that you will eventually reach the right decision."

Rosa mused over this for a moment, trying to see clearly through her clouded mind. Soon she would be returning to the _Enterprise_ and that meant she would have to face her parents. It also meant continuing to see Alex on a daily basis. They had school together. How would they handle the interaction?

"Friendship is difficult to reestablish after a relationship," the man said as though reading Rosa's thoughts. "But I have confidence in you. You'll find a way to manage." He touched her lightly on the shoulder for encouragement before walking away. She watched as he disappeared, wondering if he was off to help someone else or returning to wherever he came from-Heaven perhaps.

Sighing, she approached a dress shop and decided this time, she would buy something. *****

"Why can I so easily convince a fifteen-year old girl that she'll work things out when I can't even solve my own problems?" Wesley asked of the Traveler.

"It's the nature of the universe, my friend," his mentor responded. "Every event has its purpose; every challenge its meaning."

Wesley nodded. He'd heard that phrase from the Traveler often enough. Somehow the Traveler made it sound as though he were saying it for the first time, adding layers to its meaning.

"I need to see Robin again, but I don't know what to say to her."

"Your biggest fault lies in over analyzing a situation."

"Now where have I heard that before?" Wesley was sure the Traveler, in his own cryptic way, was telling him to just go see Robin, to allow whatever to develop the way it was meant to be. But the repeated phrase inspired him to wonder anew about the first time the Traveler had uttered those words. "Are you responsible for Shannara Rozhenko coming out of her coma?

"Shannara is a very special little girl." The Traveler smiled enigmatically, offering no further explanation. "Now go do what you have to do." The older man winked out of that plane.

Wesley remained there for a moment, pondering the intricacies of the Traveler's last statement. Had he meant that Shannara, like all children, was too precious to let die? Or had he meant something entirely different? The Traveler had once referred to Wesley as special, someone who could finally rise above the long-set Human limits. What was Shannara Rozhenko's purpose? Wesley hoped she met her life's challenge with the same tenacity she overcame this one. *****

When Robin reported for her shift she found her console already activated. None of the alpha shift had any reason to use this area of engineering. Glancing around the room, she looked for anyone who might possibly have had a reason to use her station. Her colleagues, engrossed in their own repairs and maintenance, appeared without motive.

Robin stepped closer to her monitor and found a message that shed some light on her little mystery.

Maybe I over analyzed the situation.

If you would give me just one more

chance, we could work on your proposal.

"So what do you say?"

Robin turned around, smiling, to almost fall into Wesley's arms. "What changed your mind?"

"I realized that sometimes, despite all I've learned and all my travels, I can be really dense."

"Laws yes!" Robin wrapped her arms around him and as they kissed passionately, others around them stopped their work and began clapping. Robin wondered if Jeckyl was watching and realized she didn't care if he disapproved. *****

"I wish you didn't have to leave so soon," Beverly said as she and Picard reached the docking bay. "You really should request more time off. Counselor Bennett is a wonderful therapist."

"Okay, what has Martha been feeding your head now?" the captain asked.

"We're both only interested in what's best for you, Jean-Luc. You can't expect the nightmares to go away on their own."

"Well, you certainly understand the demands on a Starfleet captain. I've learned to deal with it."

"Deal with it! You make it sound like replicator shortages. We're talking about your mental health."

"For me, there's no better therapy than exploring the unknown."

"I'm not mysterious enough for you, huh?" Beverly smiled flirtatiously at him. He had deliberately changed the subject and yet she couldn't help but let him.

"Beverly, the day I learn to understand everything about you, will be the day I've solved the nature of the universe."

"Then you'll have to make sure you return to explore this sector frequently. . .thoroughly."

"Count on it," he promised, wrapping his arms around her waist. They kissed before parting. Reluctantly, he boarded the Stargazer. *****

Ten days later, the Rozhenkos, Dr. Selar, and Rosa Cassadaga reboarded the _Huron_. Shannara was completely capable of walking on her own, but her family disputed over whose turn it was to hold the little girl. Behaving as a typical two-year old girl, Shannara absolutely ate up the attention.

After they ascended into warp 5,Ensign Spry informed them that it would take nearly six days for them to reach the _Enterprise_.

Finally, as they began to settle in for the long ride, Shannara grew tired of the constant attention and insisted that she be allowed to run around the room. Only a little while later, she grew exhausted and Dr. Selar insisted that the girl be put to bed in a quiet room. Her parents took Shannara to a small room where a child-sized bed had been assembled.

While Deanna found a nightgown for her daughter, Worf began telling a bedtime story about a Klingon boy who decided he was old enough to hunt on his own. Deanna removed her daughter's clothing and after slipping the nightgown on the girl, helped her into the bed.

"Mommy, Daddy," Shannara interrupted just as Worf reached the point in the story where the boy was being attacked by a wild animal. "Don't want that part."

Worf and Deanna turned toward each other. Naturally, their daughter would be frightened by anything that reminded her of her near-death experience. Her mother bent to her knees to hug Shannara.

Looking at her husband, Deanna said, "Only stories about princesses and ponies from now on."

"Agreed," Worf responded. Amazing how fatherhood softened even the fiercest warrior.

Content, Shannara brought her thumb to her mouth, snuggled with her doggie and laid still to listen to a new story. Soon, she fell asleep and slowly, reluctantly, her parents left her room. They had time now for family, play, stories. . .their little girl had come home.

**The End**

I hope you have enjoyed this story from the archives of Lal's Library, written 1996. More to come!


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